


Gone

by nonna



Category: Avengers, Captain America Civil War, Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Actually the four mains are Tony T'Challa Bucky and Wanda lol, Captain America Civil War - Freeform, Gen, Hurt Tony Stark, Post Captain America Civil War, Protective Steve Rogers, T'Challa is a badass, The team slowly heals, This is not as angsty as you may think, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Tony centric, blind tony stark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-13
Updated: 2018-04-29
Packaged: 2018-06-08 02:19:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 57,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6835024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nonna/pseuds/nonna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the final fight scene of Captain America Civil War, Tony's helmet breaks off the armour after the relentless clashing it receives.</p><p>What if the harsh hits to his head create serious complications for Tony, and he loses his sight?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Fight

**Author's Note:**

> Ah so I watched the movie, and of course this calls for more Tony angst fics. This will be a longer multi chaptered fic, which is a bit unusual for me, lol! 
> 
> This chapter is mainly setting up the story. Next chapter is where the real pain and struggle begins :p
> 
> I'm trying my best to show the justifications for both sides of the story, because this is focused on Tony, yes, but I don't mean to make it anti Steve c:

Steve falls to the ground, grunting as his shoulder collides with the harsh floor. He pushes himself up to a sitting position, watching as the Iron Man suit whirls and stands tall. Tony raises a hand, pointing the repulser at Steve, and says, “stand down.”

As if.

Steve stands up, bracing himself for a fight. He’s never stood down––not against the bullies before the serum, not against Hydra at World War II, not against Loki or Ultron… and certainly not now. “I could do this all day.”

The repulser lights up as the beam begins to build, and Steve takes a deep breath once Tony fires, bracing himself for the impact.

But then, his shield is there, flying his way, and Steve grabs it. Adrenaline rushes through his system once again as he blocks the beam and rolls on the ground, then jumping up and smashing his shield into the Iron Man suit before Tony has the time to fight back. Tony fires another beam, but Steve blocks it again.

Soon, Bucky is at his side. Steve doesn’t hesitate to throw the shield over to Bucky, who catches it effortlessly and and hits the Iron Man with it. They exchange the shield, blocking hits and sending them, and all Steve can see is red. He can’t really think––he just wants to keep Bucky safe, and Tony had tried to _kill_ him.

Steve will not let anyone lay a finger on Bucky again.

But Tony manages to get a hit on Steve, knocking him to the ground once more. Bucky is immediately enraged, shoving his metal arm into the suit’s arc reactor and pushing into it relentlessly. The Iron Man clashes against a wall, and Bucky pushes into the reactor core with greater pressure, cracking more and more of the reactor.

  
The HUD is blaring for Tony, with beeps and colours and warnings. The reactor is providing less and less energy to power the suit, and Bucky won’t _stop_ , and this man killed his parents, and Steve had _known_ and had kept it a secret from him––

He grinds his teeth, and sends full power to the reactor, releasing a powerful unibeam of energy directly into Bucky’s arm.

And the arm gets blown right off.

Tony lets out a shaky breath as he watches the man fall to the ground, shock–-and perhaps pain?––evident on his face.

When Steve approaches Tony with deadly anger, Tony finds that he has suddenly lost the energy to fight back. The shield hits him once, twice, and a few times more… and Tony cannot attempt to block it.

He stares at Bucky, lying on the ground, wincing.

 _Oh, God_ , he thinks. _Fuck, I lost it. Fuck. Jesus Christ. I fucking lost it._ He looks at Steve again, through the flashing lights on his HUD _. Oh, shit, Barnes was brainwashed. Shit, this is exactly what Zemo just fucking said he wanted––to tear us up from the inside out. And I fell for his fucking tactics, shit, fuck._

He lost control, gotten blinded by anger.

Shit.

Steve shows no sign of calming down. Instead, he begins to hit Tony's helmet even stronger, alternating between punches and clashes with the shield. There is no kindness in his eyes, no remorse, only anger.

But––if Steve had _told_ him, if he’d been truthful, then Tony would not have been so shocked at watching the footage, would not have gotten so angered and hurt by Steve’s secrets, would not have lunged at Barnes in such animalistic behaviour.

So he takes the hits, attempting to process the situation at hand. Steve is now fighting him because he attacked Bucky, but _he'd_ attacked Bucky because he hadn’t been told about a very important secret and had simply not had the time to process it beforehand.

Just what a shitbag like Zemo wanted.

He's unsure when he'd fallen to the ground, or how long Steve has been hitting him for, before the helmet breaks off. Suddenly, Tony's eyes meet Steve's, and they pause for a moment... but only for a moment. Soon, Steve raises the shield again, preparing to send it crashing down into Tony's skull, and Tony feels a different tinge of panic build up inside him. At another time––perhaps even during their fight at the airport––Tony would not have, for a second, thought that Steve would actually kill him with the shield.

And yet, the look on Steve's face tells Tony that he would not hesitate to kill him in this very moment. Tony gets it, then. Understanding settles into his mind, but also his heart. He finds an awful empty sensation, one drained of anger and bitterness and hatred, and filled with longing, remorse and pain instead.

Tony had attacked Bucky, could have killed him. Steve was willing to end Tony's life for trying.

Tony's vision begins to dim at the edges, and he finds himself bringing up his arms over his head, crossing them, as an attempt to block Steve's shield. At first he hesitates to do it, debating whether or not he deserved this hit––this death.

The shield doesn't clash with his arms. Tony begins to let out a shaky sigh of relief, but his breath is cut off abruptly as the weight of the armour presses down onto his chest with immense force. Steve had sent the shield crashing into his the suit's reactor.

He can hear Steve breathing slowly, his anger easing... but he cannot see it.

He blinks a few times, willing the dizziness and darkness to go away. It feels much like when he stands up much too quickly after a few sleepless nights, blacking out momentarily.

But the darkness _doesn't_ go away.

The pressure eases off his chest, and Tony finds himself inhaling a wheezing breath. He can hear Steve's footsteps, then Bucky's grunts as Steve helps him up. Panic overwhelms Tony. He gulps quickly, then again as he attempts to push himself up into a sitting position. He only manages to prop himself onto his elbows, and leans towards the direction he can hear Steve and Bucky's footsteps.

The guilt that had overcome him only minutes earlier begins to dissipate, replaced by fresh anger. Steve is leaving him here––after having nearly killed him––to remain alone in the darkness, with a suit that no longer works (and is now simply heavy weight), in the harsh winter of Siberia...

God damn it, they had made mistakes. Tony made mistakes, he _knows_  that. And he had come here, with the help of Sam Wilson, to make amends. Yes, he failed! He fucking lost it, like the mess he of a man he was who barely held himself together. He made mistakes, and he admitted to them. Because he always made mistakes, and he always admitted to them, and he never seemed to stop making things worse.

But... but had he made so many mistakes that Steve would leave him behind like this?

"Steve," Tony calls out, his voice wavering with plea, anger and confusion.

Steve doesn't answer, only keeps pushing Bucky forward with comforting words.

"Steve," Tony calls out again. "You're leaving?"

He hears the footsteps come to a halt, and for a lonely moment, he feels hope fill the emptiness in his chest. He attempts to push himself up further, attempts to stand up. A part of his hopes to feel Steve's hand supporting his elbow, helping him rise again.

But it doesn't.

"I can't see anything," Tony admits, his voice barely above a whisper. "Steve."

Tony has no right to expect Steve to help––he knows this. But he can't help but wish for it, wish that Steve's heart would soften, wish that after letting out all their anger and beating each other down, they'd feel much better. It was just like arguments, wasn't it? You keep it bottled in until you have a good argument, express your feelings and concerns, then everyone feels better. It gets easier to move on. He knows it's too much to hope for––but God help him, he can't stop himself from hoping.

He hears Steve let out a shaky breath, then the shuffling of the feet returns. For a brief moment, Tony thinks they're approaching him, before he realizes they're becoming more distant. He falls back to his elbow, unable to keep himself up for much longer, and spits out, "you don't deserve that shield."

He is met with silence. Does he regret saying it? Perhaps. Not entirely. He doesn't know what he's feeling.

Then, a loud thud sounds, followed by harsh clattering of metal against the ground. The shield. Did Steve just drop the shield?

Tony doesn't know, because he can't see it, but he can only assume that it is.

He hears Bucky mutter a few words before the footsteps sound again, becoming more and more distant as Steve and Bucky leave him behind.

Tony helplessly blinks his eyes again, willing his sight to return. He curses, dabbing and rubbing at his eyes, wiping against the tears that begin to fall against his will. He fights the pain building up in his throat, refusing to let out the sob he's holding––but time passes, and he doesn't know how long he lies there, begging his eyesight to return and calling out for help.

But help never comes.


	2. The Darkness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of T'Challa in this chapter! I absolutely loved him in the movie and I wished we had at least ONE scene where he interacts with Tony, but.... oh well. 
> 
> I have /never/ updated a fic the second day, but the amount of comments/kudos/subscriptions so far has really motivated me to write asap, lol! This is a longer chapter, because now there are more interactions etc.
> 
> Enjoy xx

Silence.

Darkness.

Pain.

Emptiness.

Tony’s only current friends.

The suit is heavy. Tony wants to get it off, wants to unlatch the manual locks holding it in place. He can’t. He can’t _see_ his suit, and blindly reaching for the small locks on such a complex piece of work is impossible.

So he lies there, his breathing heavy. It gets very hard to breathe at times, and Tony wheezes, attempting to inhale _any_ amount of air. He was on the brink of death at some point, struggling to breathe until he passed out from lack of oxygen. Of course, panic attacks only worsened the matter, and holding them at bay was a challenge in itself.

Anger.

Anger at Steve for leaving him behind. Anger at Natasha for leaving his side when she was the last friend––other than Rhodey––he thought he had. Anger at Clint for blaming him for all of this. Anger at Bucky for killing his parents. Anger at _himself_ for unleashing his rage at Bucky. Anger at the suit that was down and would not come off. Anger at the panic attacks that just won’t stop.

And hysteria, because no matter how hard he rubbed his eyes, how long he slept for, how much he cried, his sight didn’t return. Not a flicker of light in the distance. Not a blurred image of his surroundings. Not a range of shades of colours.

Only darkness.

He rolls over to the side and retches, again. The stench of vomit surrounds him, and he gags. Is this it, then? Is this how he dies? The great Iron Man, found dead in an abandoned fortress in Siberia, lying in a pool of his own blood and vomit.

Steve should have killed him when he had the chance. It would have been easier than this.

* * *

 

“I have come to check on Mr. Stark, and to have a small chat with him.” T’challa says, smiling politely.

Rhodey shakes his head, but steps aside, gesturing for T’Challa to come in. The Wakandan King furrows his eyebrows, following Rhodey into the facility, and asks, “Am I not welcome here?”

“No, no,” Rhodey answers hurriedly. “Nothing like that. It’s just… I was hoping you came bearing news about Tony’s whereabouts. I guess you didn’t.”

T’Challa tilts his head to the side, crossing his hands behind his back as he continues to walk alongside Rhodes. “I’m afraid I don’t. Is he… missing? How long has he been gone?”

Rhodes sighs, worry evident on his features. He presses a four-numbered code onto the glass door of the common room and it slides open. “Please, take a seat, your Highness.” When T’Challa smiles bemusedly, he smiles back despite himself. “No one has heard from him in the past three days. And, you know, the Avengers apparently broke out of their cells, and now everyone thinks that Tony has taken them into hiding.”

T’Challa clears his throat, nodding. Tony certainly hasn’t taken any of the imprisoned Avengers along with him, because T’Challa has. They are hiding in Wakanda, along with Steve Rogers and James Barnes. But T’Challa cannot say that. “That is an interesting coincidence,” he says instead. “Though I don’t believe Mr. Stark would do such a thing. Do you?”

Rhodey sighs again, taking a seat across from the king. He shrugs. “To be honest with you, I don’t know. Tony would break them out. Tony would go into hiding. But normally, he would tell me about it. Touch base, let me know he’s alive some way or another. What’s unlike him is disappearing off _my_ grid.”

T’Challa studies Rhodes carefully. “And Mr. Stark has not contacted you in three days? Perhaps General Ross has sent him on a mission.”

“General Ross wants his head.” Rhodey nearly snaps. “He thinks Tony broke his contract, his agreement with the Sokovia Accords. If he knew where Tony was, Tony would be rotting in a cell of his own right now. Whoever did this must have done it purposely––kidnap Tony––break out the Avengers––frame him for it!”

T’Challa’s cheeks flush slightly, and he shifts in his seat. That is not true. He had last seen Tony Stark fighting against Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes, and had not come into contact with him since. The––now previous––Avengers were hiding with him, in his home, and none spoke of Stark’s whereabouts or framing him for their absence.

“Where was he last seen?” He asks.

“At the raft. He visited Barton, Lang, Wilson and Maximoff in their cells. Communications cut off for about thirty seconds before audio went back on. Just happens that Tony and Sam had quite the discussion in those seconds, as was evident in the footage. He left the base in a hurry and… was not seen afterwards. Honestly, I’m starting to believe that he _was_ the one who broke them out. But like I said, I don’t understand why he wouldn’t contact me.”

At the raft. T’Challa had followed his helicopter, leaving the raft and heading to Siberia. Sam Wilson had told Tony of Steve and Bucky’s whereabouts––he had said this last night in Wakanda.

The last people who had seen Tony, then, must have been Steve and Bucky.

T’Challa stands up abruptly, and forces a polite smile. “Then I will have to speak to him when he returns. I will send my men to search for him, to keep an eye out. I will let you know if I find anything.”

“Just––Just don’t hand him over to Ross if you find him.” Rhodey pleads. “I know you think he committed a crime, released his teammates and all, but––but Ross will kill him before he can even explain what happened.”

The smile on T’Challa’s face turns sincere, then, as he promises: “I will bring your friend no harm if I find him. I can promise you that, Mr. Rhodes.”

Rhodey lets out a sigh of relief. “Thank you, Mr… I mean, thank you, your Highness.”

“You can call me T’Challa.”

“Thank you, your Highness T’Challa.”

T’Challa shakes his head, his smile not faltering, and excuses himself. He has someone he needs to talk to.

* * *

 

Steve is sketching the beautiful Wakandan landscape when a knock sounds on the door and it creaks open. Steve sets down his charcoal pencil, wiping excess charcoal off his hand with a kleenex, and turns to the door. When he sees that it’s King T’Challa standing in the doorway, he immediately stands, smiling politely. “Your Highness.”

“Captain Rogers.” T’challa greets. His eyes flicker to Bucky’s sleeping form. Steve had insisted that they share a room, so T’Challa provided them with two large beds. “I believe we need to talk.”

Steve nods, feeling nervous. Was T’Challa going to kick him and the team out of Wakanda? Steve cannot ask to stay––he has no right to––but he wonders what’s happened. Has someone found their whereabouts? “Of course. Please, come in.”

T’Challa shuts the door behind him gently, then steps into the room. “It’s regarding Mr. Stark. I believe you hold many of the answers that I seek.”

Tony? What did T’Challa need to know about Tony? Steve begins to grow even more nervous, but forces himself to push it down and nod. “I’ll try my best to give you whatever answers you need. It’s the least I can do in return to all the favours you’ve graced us with, your Highness.”

“Please, call me T’Challa.” T’challa says, almost rolling his eyes. He moves closer to Steve’s bed, and takes a seat in the armchair located across from it. Steve sits down at the edge of his bed, facing the king. “You were the last people to see Tony Stark.”

Steve raises an eyebrow. “Last we saw him was three days ago, in Siberia. You were there with us, you saw the fight. I haven’t gotten into contact with him since.”

T’Challa nods. “Precisely. Tony Stark has not been seen since. Last I saw him, he was fighting you. When you came out, found me with Zemo, he was not with you. I was inclined to believe that he had left, perhaps flown away in his suit. Did he?”

Steve pauses, mulling over T’Challa’s words. He shakes his head slowly. “No, he… I left him. He blew off Buck’s arm, and the two of us fought, and I left him. I left him, and I left my shield with him. I’m sure he managed to find a way to leave or call for help––he’s Tony. Besides, he has General Ross backing him up now, where’s he––”

“General Ross, and the government, appear to believe that Tony Stark was responsible for breaking your friends out of their prisons.” T’Challa explains, cutting Steve off. “Their suspicions initiated when the audio cut off, and Sam gave Tony the details. Suddenly, Tony Stark was off the grid, and the Avengers were nowhere to be found, freed from their prisons. He is framed for their escape.”

Steve’s eyes widen slightly. “Have you asked Rhodey or Vision? Maybe he’s just laying low.”

“Mr. Rhodes was the one who informed of this news.”

Steve is silenced, unsure of how to respond. What was T’Challa getting at? “And you think that I framed him?”

“I do not.” T’Challa says slowly. “Or perhaps.. I do not _know_. I will return to Siberia, to the base. Do you think he may still be there?”

“I don’t know how I can know that––”

“Tell me about the condition you last saw him in.” T’Challa presses. “Was his suit functional? Did he seem unwell? I need to know how far he may have been able to travel in order to be able to track him down.”

“His suit was down.” A new voice sounds. They turn to Bucky, who’s propped up on his one elbow now. “I pretty much shut it it down before he blew my arm off. Then Steve fully turned off the suit when he crushed the reactor. I saw it, it wasn’t glowing. There’s no way he could have flown out of that place.”

T’Challa nods, thankful for Bucky’s honesty, though slightly surprised. “Then he must not have travelled far. The suit is heavy, I imagine.”

“Maybe he hasn’t travelled at all.” Bucky suggests. “I was… I was kind of out of it when we were leaving the place, but I think I recall him saying that he couldn’t see anything.”

T’Challa turns to Steve immediately, anger flashing in his eyes for a brief moment. He respected the captain for his honesty, his courage. He respected him because he was willing to fight for a cause he believed in. But he did not think he would leave a teammate––and arguably, an old friend––behind in such a condition.

“And you did not care to speak of this?” T’Challa prompts. “You left a man lying in Siberia, with no communication, with no power to escape, and with no vision? I must hope that his loss of vision was only a temporary case.”

Steve bites down on aggravation. “He tried to kill Bucky. He was the reason the team was imprisoned, he stood with the Sokovia Accords––”

“As I do.” T’Challa interjects. “Do not forget that my father was one of the founding members of the Accords. As I said previously, I agree with the Accords, but not the politics. It is why I am keeping you here, safe in my home. The politics are the reason your friends got imprisoned, not Stark, not me. We agree to the cause, but we play no part in the repercussions. Mr. Stark was willing to turn against the politics, was he not? When he first joined you in Siberia. Until he saw the footage.”

Steve nods, looking down at his hands, which are crossed over his lap.

“Make no mistake, Captain. I have helped you and your friends because I saw good in you, I saw honour. What I hear now leads me to believe that I may have misjudged you.”

Steve gulps slowly, and shakes his head. “I––I was overtaken by anger. Tony had attacked Bucky, and I couldn’t––”

“There’s nothing wrong with admitting we’re wrong.” Bucky says, now sitting up cross-legged. “You were overtaken by anger, but so was he. He watched the footage, Steve. He saw me killing his parents. And he stood back when you held him, until he realized you’d kept it a secret. You had the right to be angry that he attacked me… but that means he, too, had the right to be angry about what he found out.”

T’Challa nods, once again surprised with Bucky’s speech. “Thank you, Mr. Barnes. I do agree. Regardless of what you felt in that moment, you should told me that you had left Mr. Stark behind.”

“I didn’t know that he’d stay behind.” Steve argues weakly. When T’Challa simply shakes his head, he exhales slowly, and says, “I’m sorry. I should have. He kind of asked for help, but I… I was still feeling bitter. I thought he made it out, afterwards. I still hope that he did.”

“As do I.” T’Challa murmurs. “Or else he will be in a very bad condition when I find him.”

* * *

 

T’Challa finds him lying in the same spot Steve and Bucky had claimed they’d left him just over three days ago now. He is still clad in his Iron Man suit, lying down over on his right side. There is no helmet supporting his head, and T’Challa can see the heavy––now dried––blood covering his entire face and pooling around him on the ground. There is vomit, too.

T’Challa is thankful for the small air filtration system in his own suit, which blocks out the stench.

“Mr. Stark?” He calls out hesitantly, stepping closer to the man. He walks by Captain America’s fallen shield, untouched by Tony.

Tony’s eyes flutter open, and he attempts to speak out, but is unable to. Instead, he coughs, his throat dry and hoarse. T’Challa is thankful, too, for the small pouch of water he had brought along just in case. The man had been missing for over three days, and most people could only survive four or five days without water, even in such cold conditions.

He crouches next to Tony, and waits for a reaction, for him to notice his presence. When Tony says nothing, T’Challa speaks up again. “Tony? Can you hear me? I have water for you to drink. I will have to help you sit up first.”

Tony’s eyes span the room frantically, overlooking T’Challa. He coughs again. “Who?”

“I am king T’Challa of Wakanda. The warrior who currently holds the title of the Black Panther. I am sure you remember me, though we did not have the chance to speak much.” T’Challa says. “I will help you sit up.”

He grabs Tony’s hand, still clad in the gold-titanium alloy suit, and places his other hand behind Tony’s shoulder. With a grunt, he hoists the other man up into a sitting position, immediately moving to support his back when he nearly topples over.

Once he places the pouch of water at Tony’s lips, and Tony gulps down the water ruthlessly, T’Challa asks, “Your suit is heavy. Can you remove it manually?”

It takes Tony a few moments to catch his breath, but then he nods. “Latches at joints,” he rasps.

T’Challa gets to work, searching for the latches and unlocking them once he finds them. After a few minutes, he is able to pull the American billionaire out of his suit. Tony immediately slumps into his arms, unable to keep himself upright.

“Can’t see,” Tony croaks. “Dark.”

So his vision had not returned.

That is not a good sign.

“So I heard.” T’Challa mutters, placing Tony’s arm over his shoulder. He grabs Tony’s waist with his other arm, and stands up, pulling Tony up along with him. Tony lets out a cry of pain, and T’Challa exhales slowly. “You are in pain, I know. I will get you to medical attention soon. Can you walk?”

“Can’t see,” Tony repeats instead.

“I know that,” T’Challa says patiently. “We will get that looked at. But first, I need to bring you to my jet so I can take you someplace safe.”

Tony’s eyes roam the area, moving quickly from side to side, not quite focusing on anything. When he doesn’t answer T’Challa, the king begins to walk, dragging Tony along with him. Tony can barely walk, but he attempts to take a few steps forward as T’Challa helps him.  When he is positioned in the small jet, T’Challa returns to retrieve as many pieces of the Iron Man suit as he can fit––he does not want it falling in the wrong hands.

Tony is quiet. He shrinks back in his seat, hugging himself tightly and bringing his knees up to his chest. T’Challa lets out a sharp exhale, angered by the sight of the billionaire, angered by the Avengers and whatever they had done to their team.

About an hour after they take off, Tony repeats: “Can’t see. S’ dark.”

T’Challa’s jaw clenches, unsure of how to respond to the other man.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yasss T'Challa!! Finally found out our missing babe. Hope you enjoyed the chapter! Let me know what you think :) Did you like Bucky's bits? I feel like they are in character for him, but I'm not sure.


	3. The Loss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What! Third chapter on the third day? :o
> 
> I would make the chapters longer, but I find that with the set up of this story, chapters of 1-3k words fit better than longer chapters of 3-6k words. I mean, there may be a longer chapter later on, but I feel like this flows better. What do you think? Do you have a preference?
> 
> Enjoy, as always :)

"It's dark," Tony whines. His voice is on the verge of breaking. "Please, I can't see. I can't see anything. It's so dark."

T'Challa exchanges a look with the doctor standing next to him--Dr. Malanda--silently asking her what they should tell the man. He had brought Tony to Wakanda, but decided against informing any of the other Avengers of his presence. It would be best to keep him laying low until the medics looked after him and evaluated his condition.

The reports, unfortunately, bore no good news.

Tony Stark had suffered a large stroke due to the numerous head injuries, affecting mainly the occipital lobe of his brain. With blood cut off from the tissue, it was no longer able to perform its regular function, and thus his brain could no longer process the visual signals coming from his eyes.

Strokes were best treated within three hours of their occurrence. Tony had lived with the stroke for over three days. They could not extract the blood clots, not safely. He would be given blood thinner medication, but the doctors doubted it would provide much help with the current strokes; it may be able to fend off further ones, however.

Which means that Tony Stark is, most likely, never going to regain his vision.

T'Challa hates to be the one bearing the news.

He inhales slowly, stepping closer to Tony's bed. Tony's hooked up to various machines and probes, monitoring his vitals and providing him with nutrients. His eyes are wide open, unseeing. Various cuts line his face, part of his head is wrapped with gauze. He is shaking. The sight of him makes T'Challa's heart clench.

This is what vengeance has led to.

Placing a gentle hand on Tony's shoulder, T'Challa says, "Mr. Stark, you must calm down."

Tony gulps, attempting to focus his eyes on T'Challa's general direction. He nods, forcibly slowing his breathing and counting the seconds before he exhales. He oddly finds comfort under T'Challa's grasp; he no longer feels like he's floating within nothingness. Instead, he's being held in place. "Can't see," he says in a small voice, clinging onto T'Challa's hand with his own. "How long has it been?"

"Just under four days," T'Challa answers. His eyes travel to Tony's hand; his knuckles are white from gripping T'Challa so strongly. "I know that you cannot see, Mr. stark. My doctors have... run examinations on you, studied the extent of your injuries."

Tony is quiet for a few moments, his grip easing off T'Challa. Then he asks, in a broken voice, "And? My eyes didn't get directly damaged. What is it? Stroke?" In the three days of isolation, Tony had considered just about any possible explanation for his sudden loss of sight. Biologically speaking, a stroke seemed most likely.

T'Challa breathes out a sigh of relief, seeing as he would not need to explain the condition to Tony in detail. The genius seems to have figured it out. "Yes, I'm afraid you've suffered a stroke to your occipital lobe."

Tony is silent again. This time, his hand slides off T'Challa's entirely. He nods, but feels pressure build up at the back of his throat as he forces the tears from dropping. "It's been days. Can't get fixed."

T'Challa does not answer, and Tony understands. There was nothing the man, or his team of technologically advanced doctors, could have done. Not so many days after the stroke occurred; It was far too late.

He will never be able to see anything again.

He will never see the small freckles lining Pepper's cheeks and nose, or her soft smile as she pushes back her tears, or the way her eyes glisten in the sun. He will never see Rhodey's sheepish grin, or how he's progressing with his physiotherapy lessons, or that concerned face he makes. He will never see his bots, Dummy and You. Will never see his lab, his workshop.

He will never be Tony Stark again.

Even his fortune, his legacy, relied on the technology that be built. But he can no longer tinker with tech, or design new prototypes, or use his hologram workspace. Of course, this means that he cannot release new tech for Stark Industries, nor can he improve his Iron Man armour.

Whatever had made Tony Stark wealthy, whatever had made him the Iron Man... All gone.

Iron Man.

He wants to scoff.

Damn the day he became the Iron Man, the day he thought he could become a hero. Damn him for creating the suit and working with the Avengers, for getting involved with them.

The Iron Man is dead, and Tony has died along with him.

"Tony?"

He hears a few distant voices in the background. He thinks they're calling for him, but he can't be sure. T'Challa's hand is no longer holding him in place, and he's floating, floating, floating away into the darkness. It holds a strange sense of serenity, much like outer space--like the wormhole Tony had flown into. It's quiet, void, endless.

He might get lost in it.

"His pulse is very high," Dr. Malanda notes. "He is not responsive. He's going into shock."

T'Challa exits the room, leaving space for the nurses and doctors to aid Tony.

If dealing with the damaged man that was Barnes wasn't enough, he now has to deal with the damaged man that is Stark. T'Challa wonders how his life has come to this.

 

* * *

 

Something troubles the Wakandan King. Worry, fear, sympathy... They all radiate off him, filling Wanda's senses. Whenever he enters the room, his feelings would surge, nearly blinding her powers. To say the man is under stress would be an understatement, she thinks.

She does not have the ability to read minds, despite common belief. She does, however, possess the power to glance at snippets of the images flashing through their thoughts. Most of the time, the images hold no meaning--everyone thinks differently. Occasionally, however, the images can stem from memory, or fear, or hope.

When she sees a still of Tony Stark lying in the Wakandan Palace medical quarters, his eyes wide and seemingly unseeing, Wanda cannot know if it's from the king's memory, or if he simply wishes to see Tony lying in a hospital bed.

She has a feeling it's not the latter.

 

* * *

 

"Pepper." Rhodey greets, ushering Pepper into the facility. She had come to visit as soon as Rhodey contacted her, telling her that he has news about Tony. He could not say any more over the phone.

Pepper's eyes are brimmed with tears. "Is he alive?"

Rhodey nods, and Pepper lets heaves a sigh of relief, falling into the couch, her eyes closed. Rhodey clears his throat. "He's alive. King T'Challa found him in Siberia."

"Siberia? What on Earth was he doing in Siberia?" Pepper asks, opening her eyes to look at Rhodey.

"He followed Steve and Bucky there. Wanted to help them behind Ross's back." At Pepper's irritated look, he hurries to add, "but Zemo had other plans, and he showed Tony a tape of his parents' death. Murdered by The Winter Soldier. Tony lost it, attacked Bucky, after he found that Steve had kept it a secret."

Pepper's irritation turns to anger, and she sits up straighter. "What? Steve--Bucky--and what? What happened?"

"They fought. Steve left Tony behind. His suit was offline, and..." Rhodey shakes his head, bretsjing out slowly, "... and Tony lost his vision. T'Challa found him, took him in for immediate medical care. Tony suffered some pretty severe hits to his head, and even with the armour protecting it for the majority of time, it led to a stroke."

Pepper is quiet, but the rage in her eyes is screaming. She cannot wrap her head around the fact that Steve had kept such a secret from Tony--then blinded him--then left him behind--And for what! For the Accords? For Bucky? Tony and Steve had always been too stubborn for their own good, and a fight was bound to happen.

But it wasn't bound to end like this.

"His... His vision, the loss is temporary, right?" She asks, hopes. "And where is he now? Can we go see him?"

Rhodey shakes his head again, sitting down on the arm of the couch she sits on. The robotics holding his legs up whirl as he moves. "They're unsure. T'Challa thinks it's unlikely. Hey, hey, don't cry--" Pepper begins to sniff, tears threatening to fall. "Hey, he's Tony. He'll pull through. He's in Wakanda, safe under T'Challa's protection. They're going to help him recover, okay? We can't visit him yet, but soon we will, I promise."

Pepper doesn't resist when Rhodey moves to sit next to her and pull her head onto his shoulder, wrapping his arms around her as she sobs quietly. "I left him, Rhodey. I left him when he needed me. God, he was all alone. He thought joining the Accords would make me happier, and I didn't even--I refused to speak to him, I didn't answer any of his calls. And... And now he's hurt, and he's on the other end of the world, and they think he betrayed the law..."

"I know," Rhodey soothes. "I know. We all lost something in this battle, I think. But we have to be strong, to push through. If not for ourselves, then for each other. But no one can find out about this. Can you do this? For Tony?"

Pepper nods into his shoulder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hmm now Wanda's in the mix. Yay? Or Oh No?


	4. The Candle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A much longer chapter today, nearly 4K words lolol.
> 
> Just as a promise, next chapters WILL focus a lot more on Tony's struggle with losing his vision! This is mainly setting up the relationships and the feelings of everyone, so that Tony can struggle more when it happens in front of others because I'm evil.
> 
> Enjoy xx

"Boss?"

Tony's eyes flutter open. He hadn't realized he'd shut them earlier. Not that it matters; he will only see darkness whether his eyes are opened or closed. He is sitting up on the edge of his bed, one leg curled beneath him and the other dangling, toes brushing the floor. It's been about two weeks since he's woken up in Wakanda, and most of his injuries have been treated.

Well, aside from the biggest one.

T'Challa had gotten busy, of course, and could only visit him every so often. Nurses stopped by regularly, suggesting that he goes for a walk, to practice relying on his other senses, to use the cane, to do numerous things that should help him get better.

But Tony couldn't get better. He couldn't use his other senses. He didn't have it in him to try; does he really deserve a new chance?

He wants to be back at his workshop, at his lab, tinkering with his tech and suits, designing new prototypes and burying himself in his work. His workshop had always been his escape, his safehouse, and now he can't have that.

"Boss?" FRIDAY repeats. Tony tilts his head to the right, where he thinks her voice is coming from. When had FRIDAY been brought to Wakanda?

"FRIDAY?" He asks, his voice hoarse.

FRIDAY nearly heaves a sigh of relief. Probably would have, had she not been an AI. "Mr. Stark. It's very good to hear from you again. You had me worried."

Tony lets out a soft snort. "How are you here?"

"King T'Challa contacted Ms. Potts and informed her of your situation. They hoped that with my presence, you would see that you have not lost all access to your technology and creations." FRIDAY reports. "I believe I have access to your whole room, Sir. King T'Challa must have introduced my code to the system here. I also believe that he has brought you one of your Stark Phones, and you can access me through that once you leave your room."

Tony is quiet, nodding to himself. FRIDAY. He hasn't heard from his AI since that fight in Siberia, since Steve slammed the shield into his reactor and disabled the suit. The fight. When he blindly attacked Bucky, losing control of himself, attacking a man who was nothing but a victim of his own actions.

Sometimes he thinks that deserved every punch and hit from Steve that day. Sometimes, he can't help but feel anger rising at the memories.

But the fear... The fear never stops. The fear that Bucky will never forgive him, and will hunt him down, will strangle him the way he strangled his parents. The fear that Steve will not forgive him either, and will not hesitate to slit his throat with the shield the next time.

The fear that Steve will smile in delight when he finds that Tony has lost his sight. The fear that the entire world will look down on him, and will say that he deserved it, because what had his sight brought them? A man who built weapons. Missiles, Iron Man suits, Ultron. Perhaps it was time that he was stopped.

"Mr. Stark?" FRIDAY asks, concerned when Tony does not answer. "Can you hear me?"

Tony clears his throat. "Yeah, yeah. I'm here. So... Pepper knows? About what happened? About what I did--how I attacked Bucky?"

"She does." FRIDAY answers. "She misses you greatly, I might add. As does Mr. Rhodes, and Vision. But we're glad to hear that you're safe and happy in Wakanda."

Pepper misses him. Tony shakes his head, nearly laughing at the thought. Pepper must be very happy that Tony's out of the picture now, no longer causing her trouble. "Safe in Wakanda. Happy. Is that what I am?"

FRIDAY is quiet for a moment. "Do you feel unsafe, Sir? If there is a cause for concern, we can evacuate you--"

"No, not unsafe. I'm safer here than I could be anywhere else on the globe right now, with Ross still out there. But... I don't know where I am. I hear I'm in Wakanda, and I don't _see_ it. I don't know what my room looks like. I don't know how the legendary Wakanda looks, and I've been here for two weeks. I don't know anyone here."

He doesn't want to admit it. But he has to.

"I'm scared."

FRIDAY does not answer, and Tony curses, falling back onto the bed, spreading his arms out. Great, now he's lost his AI, the one he built himself, because he sounded so pathetic and helpless and weak--

"As you should be."

Tony's train of thoughts pauses, and he tilts his head to the direction of FRIDAY's voice again.

"I was scared," she clarifies, "for you. I may not experience definite feelings, but I am capable of recognizing fear and dangerous situations. You are in a highly traumatic condition, Sir. I would be much more concerned if you did not feel afraid. You should feel sad, frustrated, and perhaps angry. I believe those are all human emotions that are often experienced under trauma."

Tony can't help but feel the sting in his eyes. The damn tears. Once upon a time, he was capable of holding a mask of happiness and laughter regardless of whatever pain and sadness he felt. But not anymore. And he hates it. He hates that he cannot collect himself, that he cannot stop the sobs and tears. He hates that he's even lost the _mask_ of what was, once, Tony Stark.

And as his AI forces him to think about his current situation, encourages him to feel fear and sadness and to be _human_ , he feels the barrier he had built for himself begin to crumble. Since he came to Wakanda, he's been trying to convince himself that he was weak, that he was hopeless, that he did not deserve any better.

But he is human. And as much as he tries to ignore that fact, sometimes he cannot.

"I'm just," he starts, his voice wavering. "I don't know what to do. I'm just living in darkness."

"You are not living in darkness." FRIDAY says. Then, after a pause, "You have always worked better with robotics, haven't you? You said we make more sense than humans."

Tony hums.

"What's the bed feel like? Is it comfortable?" FRIDAY asks, throwing Tony off. Tony answers with a hesitant yes, and FRIDAY continues. "I can see your bed, but I cannot feel it. I can see you are in pain, but I can't hold you to provide comfort. I have many senses, and yet I lack many others. As do you."

"So you're saying there's just a malfunction in the coding of my eyes?" Tony asks, amused. "And as a human, I have other advancements that you don't have just yet. Interesting way to put it, FRI, but it's not the same."

"But I work with what I have." FRIDAY says. "And you always seek ways to improve my function. If you can't understand your condition as a human issue--"

"Then I can understand it as though it's a robotics issue." Tony finishes.

A small smile plays on his lips. She knows him so well, his AI. Knows that as soon as she twists the situation to look like it's just another project, another robotics issue, Tony will tackle it differently.

"Precisely. And when your robots encounter an issue, do you lock or throw them away, Boss?"

"No." Tony answers, defiantly. "Of course not. I try to fix it. God, I wouldn't let you go that quick, FRI, you know that."

"I do. So why do you let go of yourself so quickly?"

Tony can't answer.

He rolls over onto his side, bringing one of his knees closer up to his chest. He wants to get better. He wants to step out and smell the fresh air of Wakanda, to learn to use his other senses.

But he can't. He can't, not when it gives him hope; Hope that he can learn to live with his new disability, hope that he can somehow make it work.

Hope.

Tony always hoped. Hope always failed him.

"And what do you suggest I do?" Tony asks in a small voice.

"I'm not the genius who built me when he lost JARVIS," FRIDAY quips, a hint of a smile in her voice. "But I do recall that the genius who did build me also began building a cybernetic lens that could, potentially, return sight to a blinded individual."

Tony stills, then sits up again. Project Spring. It was a project he had started working on a few years back, but had not quite mastered--building a lens that could restore eyesight was much harder than he had expected... and he had gotten busy with all of his other responsibilities...

But how can he work on it now? He no longer has the ability to tweak any designs, or to build anything himself...

"I can't do it, FRIDAY." He says, feelings deflated. "I can't, not when I can't see my own designs."

"King T'Challa is a well respected scientist, especially within the field of physics. Dr. Cho is a phenomenal scientist as well, and you know her work in biology and synthetic technology. You don't have to work alone."

Helen Cho.

She had nearly been killed by Ultron.

"God, Helen Cho. FRIDAY, she will never agree to help me." Tony says. "And T'Challa doesn't owe me anything. They can't help; and if they can, they have no reason to."

After a few moments, FRIDAY says, "I have someone who wants to talk to you. Should I let them through?"

Tony only nods, but FRIDAY seems to see that through her access to the cameras. There's a few beeps, then Tony hears, "Tony?"

He stills, his eyes widening.

Pepper?

"Tony? Can you hear me? This is just a voice call, you don't need to pick up the phone to respond. You probably know that. Can you say something? Anything?"

Tony gulps, letting out a soft exhale. "Pep?"

He can hear Pepper sigh in relief. "Yes, Tony. I'm so sorry, I really wanted to talk to you earlier, but you were under hospitalization and the doctors seemed to think you'd be better off without any distractions for a while... How are you?"

Tony doesn't know how to answer that question.

Truthfully, he wants to tell her everything. Wants to tell her that he misses her touch, misses burying his face into her shoulder as she holds him close, misses her lips. But he knows he can't, because she's gone, she left him--as she had every right to. Tony loved her with all his heart... But he couldn't continue to hold her down in a relationship that was bound to fail because of him.

So he tells her: "I'm good."

"Are you? Tony--you knows it's okay to not be fine? To accept that? You're going through a lot, and I owe you a big apology for abandoning you so suddenly before... for letting you go through this all on your own. I should have been there for you, and I wasn't. I want to make sure that I... That I'm there for you now. If you still want me to be."

He wants nothing more than to have her by his side.

"Thanks, Pepper." He rasps. "You have nothing to apologize for. It's... It's nice to hear back from you and FRIDAY."

"We'll be here, whenever you need us. I can't come to Wakanda, not yet. Ross is still hunting you down, and I think he would find it suspicious for me to come by. T'Challa and I are setting up a deal between Wakanda and Stark Industries, though, so I'm hoping that I'll be able to come by soon. Rhodey misses you too."

Rhodey.

"How are his legs?" Tony asks. Rhodey's legs, gone, because of Tony's mess. "Tell him I'm sorry. Please."

"It's not your fault, Tony--"

"Tell him I'm sorry. _Please_." Tony presses.

Pepper pauses. "I will."

"Thank you."

They remain in silence for a few minutes, Tony focusing on the sound of her breathing. He assumes she's crying when her breaths become shorter and shaky. "Pepper?"

"I'm here." She whispers, and her voice sounds clogged. Definitely crying.

"I'll be okay." Tony assures her. Then, as an afterthought, he murmurs, "right?"

"Of course. Of course you will be. Just listen to T'Challa, okay? He really wants to help you get better. Dr. Cho also agreed to come by and help if you need anything... Just let FRIDAY know."

Helen already agreed to help him?

Why?

"I... Okay. Yeah."

"And like I said, I'm here. Not leaving this time." Pepper adds. "If you need me, just tell FRIDAY and she'll set up a call."

Tony pushes the ball of his palms against his eyes, rubbing the tears away. He doesn't want to cry. He doesn't want to let himself fall apart because he's finally hearing Pepper's voice again, because she's promising him that she'll be there, that she'll answer his calls, that--

"I miss you, Tony."

Tony smiles for the first time in a long time.

"I miss you too."

Pepper sniffs. "Take care of yourself, okay? Promise me?"

Tony nods hesitantly. "Promise."

Hope.

Motivation.

They are a candle lighting up in Tony's heart. He does not try to smother it.

 

* * *

 

 

When T'Challa visits Tony later that day, his heart drops at the sight he finds in the room. Tony is sitting on the ground next to the nightstand, curled in on himself, gripping his left arm. Glass is shattered across the room. As he steps closer, T'Challa sees that there is a large gash travelling down Tony's arm, from elbow to knuckles.

"Tony?" He calls out cautiously, crouching down next to the other man. "Friend, are you alright?"

Tony looks up, his eyes focusing on an area near T'Challa's face. "King T'Challa."

"What happened?"

"I... It's nothing." Tony shakes his head, pushing himself to stand up. His hand misses the edge of the bed, and he falls forward. T'Challa grips Tony's arm, helping steady him. Some of the blood flowing down Tony's arm stains T'Challa's sleeves in small dots. "I was tying to explore the room. Fell against the mirror, broke it. Sorry, I should have called for a nurse, I just--"

T'Challa smiles. "It's okay. You are attempting to test your other senses, I'm happy to see that. I would have preferred you asked for help, only to prevent such injuries. I will call for a nurse to check on that gash. Do you need help rising to the bed?"

Tony shakes his head again, and pushes himself up, patting the bed, the nightstand, and eventually sitting down on the edge of the bed. T'Challa breathes out in relief, and squeezes Tony's shoulder. "You are getting there. I will have that wound looked after immediately."

"Thank you," Tony says, sincerely.

 

* * *

 

 

"I'm sorry, I know I am late." T'Challa says, entering the meeting room. The team has scheduled meetings with T'Challa every two to three weeks, simply to check in and discuss any plausible issues that may have arisen.

The team nods in greeting, mumbling,"Your Highness."

T'Challa takes a seat at the head of the table, and nods. "I was running errands with a friend. Something came up suddenly as I was on my way, I apologize... How are you? Has Wakanda been treating you well?"

Steve assures T'Challa that Wakanda has been more than kind to them, that they appreciate everything he has provided them with. Sam tells a story about his new black panther cub friend. They discuss the cyro chamber they were setting up for Bucky.

But Wanda's eyes widen slightly, still mulling over T'Challa's first words and memories when he walked into the room.

 _Running errands with a friend_.

A still of Tony half-smiling sheepishly, clinging to the bed with one arm, his other held by T'Challa's own hands. There is a gash on Tony's arm, bleeding profusely. Some of the blood has made its way to his sleeve.

Wanda's gaze travels to T'Challa's shirt, and she spots the small dots on the bottom of his sleeve.

She inhales sharply, looking down to her hands, crossed on her lap.

Tony Stark is in Wakanda.

 

* * *

 

Two days later, the team gathers to have dinner in the common kitchen they share. Steve has apparently learned a new recipe from a Wakandan chef, and he wants his friends to try it. He promises that it's good, but they still give him skeptical glances as they gather around the table. An American icon preparing a Wakandan dish?

As it turns out, it's not impossible. Steve has actually cooked a very good dish. Clint fills in another serving, unable to stop himself. "Wow, this is good. I thought all you could cook were pancakes. Remember when you always made pancakes back at the tower?"

"He made scrambled eggs sometimes," Sam says. "But I guess that was at the the facility. Now in Wakanda, you've fully stepped up your game, man!"

Steve chuckles, setting down his fork. "I have a few tricks up my sleeves. I'm not a horrible cook."

"You tried to cook chicken once," Wanda reminds him, smirking. "And it was very bland. I always heard Americans eat bland chicken but I didn't think it was that bad. Or maybe it was just your horrible cooking skills?"

Bucky bursts out laughing. "His mom was a great cook, so I have a feeling it's not his heritage."

"At least I don't drown it in salt, like Tony did." Steve notes smartly.

Everyone stills at the mention of Tony. It's the first time they've mentioned him so casually ever since the Accords were introduced.

"Yeah, I don't think you ever tried his food." Clint says, pushing through the tense setting. He points his fork at Sam, Bucky and Wanda. "He kept insisting that it was his Italian side, but I don't know about that. I think he just had really bad control over how much he poured into the pot."

Stark, who's in Wakanda somewhere. Who looks weak and unwell.

Wanda clenches her jaw.

"But if I had to choose between the two of you, in terms of cooking," Clint continues, "I'm afraid I'll have to go with Tony. What? Don't give me that look, Rogers! He cooked a wider variety of food, at least. You practically only made breakfast."

"And today's meal doesn't change that?" Steve challenges with a grin.

"I'll have to reconsider."

A wave of laughter erupts around the table, and Wanda forces a small smile. Steve seems to notice that something is amiss, because when they're finished eating, and Wanda is helping send the dishes to the kitchen, he steps nexits to her and asks, "Wanda, is everything okay?"

She startles, then clears her throat.

She knows that Steve will not hurt Tony. He has not entirely forgiven him, but he no longer holds the same anger and irritation towards him that he did a few weeks ago. He spoke often of how he, too, had made mistakes, and how he could not put all of the blame on Tony.

But can she tell him about Tony's presence?

She hated Stark before, was bound to. Her parents died because of his missiles.

But then she saw. She saw how many people died because of her powers indirectly. Tony had thought he was protecting his countrymen with his missiles, but they were being used for the wrong purposes behind his back. Yes, he built the missile... But he did not intend for it to kill her innocent parents--if he had, he would not have shut down the weapons manufacturing of Stark Industries when he did.

And he did not, initially, intend for Ultron to turn out the way he did. Stark had told Thor about the sceptre's whereabouts, was willing to give it without question, until she played with his mind. Changed the course of his actions, inspiring him to take a different route.

What a mess that route had led to.

She doesn't like Stark. But she would be wrong to hate him, she thinks.

He was blamed for attacking Bucky when he saw footage of the man strangling his parents. Some of the team still believed Tony had no right whatsoever to feel rage, but Wanda... When she knew who was behind the missile who killed her parents... She had hunted Stark down, kickstarted Ultron's development, supported Ultron... Even after she joined the Avengers, she had not been very kind to the man. Only answered him with curt, swift responses.

And he took it, he accepted it, because he wanted accountability for her parents' death. He wanted to pay for it in any way, and accepted Wanda's actions as such payment.

The stills of him, the images she saw flash through T'Challa's thoughts... They were images of a broken man.

She can tell Steve. That way, they can help Tony join the team again. They can talk, apologize, discuss. Come to terms with the mistakes they all made.

But it's not her place to tell Steve. T'Challa had kept it a secret for, what she suspected, was over a week at minimum. Maybe Tony didn't want to speak to them just yet... and it really wasn't her place to force him to. She owed him that much.

"Wanda?" Steve prompts, furrowing his eyebrows.

She smiles softly. "I'm fine. I'm just... thinking about Vis. When you spoke about the facility and the tower... I guess I miss that."

Steve's eyes soften. "I guess I do, too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was very happy to see what you guys commented about Wanda last chapter because it seemed you all also thought there should be more awareness with her own actions that MCU doesn't touch on very much, and that was my plan for this fic.
> 
> Hope you liked it! Next chapter will have a lot more Bucky in it :p and Wanda of course.
> 
> And I didn't want to drag on bitter!steve so here he is, more calmed down a few weeks later. I think it's better? c:


	5. The Breakdown

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These chapters just get longer and longer eh?? This one is 4.6k words lool... and chapter 1 was 1.3k lmao.
> 
> Lots more Tony pain here! I promised more in-depth struggles for Tony, and here they are. 
> 
> Enjoy xx

The thing about being blind, Tony realizes, is that he suddenly appreciates everything he’d never cared to acknowledge. When you rely so heavily on your sight, you forget to listen to all the small things, you forget to recognize every smell around you, you forget to appreciate the feeling of everything you touch.

Something rare about it feels beautiful, he thinks. There is a sense of freedom in sitting down and just… listening. Putting things together, like pieces of a puzzle.

When he went for a walk outside his room for the first time, it had not gone well; Tony had tumbled down a set of stairs, despite the nurse’s warnings, and had come to realize the burden of his disability––he can appreciate the sounds and smells all he wants, but it doesn’t change the fact that he can’t see what’s _right before him_ , can’t avoid falling down a set of small stairs.

But he pushes through. He wants to stay hopeful, wants to keep trying. T’Challa checked in on him a lot more often now, even going on walks with him occasionally. His presence eased Tony’s anxiety, and his inspirational words encouraged Tony.

Some days, Tony wakes up feeling refreshened. He inhales the pure air of Wakanda, listens to the chirping of the birds and the rustling of leaves outside his window. He picks up his cane, trudges around the room until he’s standing by the window and smiling to himself, smiling to the world out there; The world he cannot see, but can _feel_.

Other days––like today––he wakes up feeling nothing but darkness.

His throat feels dry, and he wants to gulp down some water. Reaching for the water bottle on his nightstand is a hassle, because Tony doesn’t know how far away from it he is, or what side of the bed he’s on, or where on the nightstand it is. He can’t blink his eyes awake and grab the bottle in a blur. Not anymore. Now, he has to sit up, pat the bed on either side, get a sense of his surroundings.

It’s just… so much work. So much more work to accomplish even the _smallest_ things. He can no longer do anything in a hurry, or with divided attention.

He thinks it may be easier for people who were _born_ without their eyesight––perhaps, at least, they would never have to deal with the loss? Perhaps they would not need to re-learn to do everything?

Tony pats the bed on either side, as he does every morning, and finds that he is on the right side of the bed today. He feels for the nightstand, then for the water bottle. Then, he has to find the cap, twist it open, and bring the bottle to his lips. As it turns out, getting the bottle to your mouth when you cannot see your own hands can be very fucking frustrating.

Water drips down his chin, then down his shirt, and Tony groans. He tilts his head further back, and moves the bottle a little further up, and manages to get a few sips of water. As he moves to set it down, however, he feels water gushing down from the bottle and onto his shirt, which elicits another groan––he must have forgotten to straighten the angle of the bottle when he pulled it back.

And so he sits for another five minutes on the bed, head bowed, breathing heavy. The water on his shirt slowly begins to dry, but it continues to cling to his body; It feels extremely aggravating, but Tony does not bother to do anything about it.

“Good morning, Boss,” comes FRIDAY’s joyous voice. “You’ve been sitting there for a few minutes; would you like me to call for assistance?”

Tony shakes his head, licking his still-dry lips. “No, I’m good. What’s the schedule for today?”

“Seems to be a mostly sparing schedule, Boss.” FRIDAY says. “Neurologist Dr. Yiken will stop by later today to assess your progression, and you have an optional extra session for practice with using your cane. I believe King T’Challa said he may be able to stop by soon.”

T’Challa. The man is too kind for his own good, and it somewhat irritates Tony. Why didn’t he leave Tony to die in Siberia? Why doesn’t let Tony rot in this room? Why does he care so much to _help_ everyone?

A few days earlier, T’Challa had admitted to bringing in the other Avengers to stay hidden in Wakanda. Tony was anxious to know they were so near, but was not surprised; it made sense that they would be safe here, just as he was. Initially, Tony was afraid that T’Challa had spread the news of his condition, and was satisfied when he learned that the king knew to keep his secrets. They are in Wakanda, but Tony will not have to face them until he is ready to. Good.

“Actually, King T’Challa is currently on his way, and he has a few guests.” FRIDAY announces.

Oh, _shit_. Did Tony just jinx himself? Has T’Challa decided to bring the team to him––to his own room!––to watch how helpless and weak he’s become?

“Boss, you’re beginning to show symptoms of a panic attack.” FRIDAY says, drawing his attention. “I assure you, you will be very happy to see the guests.”

Oh, yes. He will be more than happy to see them.

If he could even _see_ them to begin with.

A knock sounds on the door, and Tony buries his face in his hands, resting his elbows on his thighs. He doesn’t want anyone to see him. Doesn’t want to hear what they have to say, doesn’t need their pity and sneering and disgust.

But when the door opens slowly, and Tony hears a soft calling of his name, he perks up.

“Pepper?”

Before he has time to process how close her footsteps are, he feels her gentle arms wrap around him, pulling him into a tight embrace. He feels lost for a moment––but only for a moment––as he tries to process where she exactly is, and then he shuts his eyes and rests his face on her shoulder.

When he inhales, his senses are flooded with _her_. The perfume she wears, which is always a delicate balance between sexy parfum and fruity goodness. Her breathing, coming in quick intervals as she tries to hold back tears. Her hair, brushing against his forehead and his cheeks.

“Tony, oh my goodness,” she’s rambling, running her hand up and down his back in a comforting manner. “I’ve missed you so much, and I was so worried about you, and––”

“Ms. Potts, perhaps it will be better to give Mr. Stark to process his surroundings?” T’Challa asks, and his voice sounds distant, brushed away with the wind running through Pepper’s hair.

Pepper pulls back hesitantly, giving Tony more room to sit back up, but her hand remains resting on his back. She moves to hold one of his hands with her other one, and gently rubs her thumb against it. “Of course, I… I’m sorry, I just… God, Tony, it’s been five months since we’ve seen each other in person…” Her voice drops to a whisper. “I’m so sorry, I––”

“No, no,” Tony rushes to say. “Pepper, don’t. I don’t care what happened before––you’re here, even though you don’t _have to be_. Wait, did Ross trail you? I don’t want you to get in trouble or to get involved; I heard he’s accusing me for breaking the Avengers out of prison, and me being in Wakanda with them… doesn’t exactly support my cause. I don’t want you getting imprisoned, Pep.”

Pepper nods, then realizes that Tony cannot see it. His eyes are on the ground, unseeing, unfocused. For a moment, she thinks he’s just daydreaming, lost in his thoughts, but then she remembers. She remembers that he can’t see her: he can’t see her new haircut (hair chopped just below her ears), or the olive green business suit he’d always loved on her, or her eyes brimmed with tears.

She sniffs, shaking her head at the thoughts.

Tony smiles. “Hmm… your breathing is quick, your nose sounds clogged. Sniffs for your long lost boss? Or am I not your boss anymore? You’re CEO now.”

Pepper explodes in a laugh, immediately understanding the reference, and her grip on his hand tightens. When he’d returned from Afghanistan, he’d made the same joke––but about her red eyes and the tears that had threatened to fall. “Sniffs of joy. You know I hate job hunting.”

“Well,” Tony says, “then vacation’s over?”

Pepper nods again, pulling him into a side-hug, allowing his head to rest on her shoulder as he sits on her side. She looks up at T’Challa and the other two standing at the doorway, and smiles sheepishly. She’d rushed to Tony’s side, unable to control herself, and they’d stood, watching them bemusedly.

T’Challa steps closer to them, a soft smile gracing his face, and says, “Dr. Helen Cho is here as well, Tony. She will be staying in Wakanda to work on a few projects with me and our scientists… and she will be here if you need her input and help on any of your own projects.”

“Mr. Stark,” Helen greets. Tony raises his eyes, resting them in her general direction, and smiles. “I’m so sorry for what’s happened. But knowing you, you will get through it––whether or not you manage to restore your eyesight.”

Because getting better doesn’t mean getting rid of his disability. It means learning to live with it and utilize it.

“Thanks, Dr. Cho. I… you don’t have to. Help, I mean. You’re very busy, and you don’t need to concern yourself with me right now––”

“Is this about Ultron?” She asks. “Yes,you did build him––when you were influenced by Maximoff’s powers. And what did I do? I helped him, also influenced by Maximoff’s powers. But you took what he made me build––Vision––and you turned it into something good. Something worthy of Thor’s hammer. I can’t express my gratitude at knowing that you did stop something potentially disastrous; something I built myself.”

Tony gulps, the tension in his shoulders easing. “Thank you. Really––Thank you.”

Helen squeezes his shoulder, and steps back. “And I’m sure you will need a science buddy to keep you company more often than me––and King T’Challa––so you might be happy to hear who else has come to stay with you.”

Tony raises an eyebrow in question, but Helen doesn’t reveal a name. Instead, he hears someone inhale a nervous breath before mumbling, “Hey, Tony.”

Banner.

No, that can’t be. Tony shakes his head. He’s starting to lose it. Was all of this a hallucination? Was it the panic attack making him see things again? Bruce had _disappeared_ over a year ago, refusing to answer any of Tony’s calls, messages… God, they were so worried about him, but he’d just vanished, and they couldn’t trace him down.

How is he in Wakanda? Is every fugitive now gathering here? T’Challa can’t be taking a risk this big––it’s more than foolish to hold an entire team of criminals sought by the USA government.

Tony rubs at his temple, doesn’t answer.  He hears a few steps approaching him, and a hesitant, “Tony?”

This time, Tony stills. When have his hallucinations gotten so realistic?

“Tony, it’s Bruce. Can you recognize his voice?” Pepper asks, her voice laced with concern. So Pepper can hear him too? Huh. Maybe she’s a figment of his imagination, too.

“Bruce. He can’t be here.” Tony whispers. “In Wakanda? We can’t all be hiding here. Wait. Is this a simulation?”

The room stills, everyone falling into a moment of confusion at the sudden change in Tony's train of thoughts.

Tony pushes Pepper away, then, and stands up, nearly tumbling backwards. His heart is thumping loudly. “I’m not falling for your shit, Ross!” He shouts, the pitch in his voice rising.

T’Challa exchanges a glance with a nurse standing by the door, and she immediately moves to extract Bruce, Pepper and Helen from the room. Pepper protests, insisting she remains by Tony’s side, so T’Challa swiftly crosses the room and grips her shoulders with his strong hands. “You need to leave. I thought your presence would encourage him, would remind him of who he was and the life he needs to return to. He’s experiencing a counter-effect, and I will not risk him thinking that I have him trapped within his own mind, or that I am working with Ross.”

Pepper nods irresolutely. She glances at Tony again, then inhales sharply and leaves the room. T’Challa shuts the door behind her, and makes his way back to Tony, who’s flailing about, panic evident in his voice.

“You think I’ll give you whatever I know about the team.” Tony is saying. “I don’t know shit about them! I don’t know if they’re in Wakanda, this simulation won’t give you any answers. Is this why it’s so dark? Why I can’t see anything?” His shin hits the nightstand, and he falls forward, his palms gripping its surface.

He swipes his hands across the nightstand, knocking numerous items to the ground. He can hear clattering and shattering, but he doesn’t care. The black, the darkness that has surrounded him, suddenly turns into a raging red. Red surrounds him, envelops him, downs the voices around him.

“Just wake me up!” He shouts, stepping forward. He can feel someone grip his upper arm, and he thrashes against it. “I’ve discovered your game, Ross, you might as well _stop_ it. What else was a simulation? Was our whole fight in Siberia a simulation? Did you want me to turn on Rogers and Barnes?”

His voice is loud, wavering. He thinks he can feel warm tears travel down his cheeks, but he doesn’t _care_. He wants to wake up, wants this hellish nightmare to be over. It had felt so real, this entire time. He doesn’t know when it started, or how.

He wants his eyesight back.

T’Challa watches the other man scream, yell, swear. He’d thought bringing Bruce would motivate Tony to work on his science projects again, to open up to his old friend and express his worries and feelings. He hadn’t realized that bringing in someone that had disappeared from Tony’s life––and his ex girlfriend, who had left him months prior––would cause him to think he was _imagining_ them.

It concerns T’Challa that Tony’s first impulse is to assume he is hallucinating the presence of his friends… Has he had problems with hallucinations before?

“Stark,” he says, wrapping his arms around the thrashing man.

“Ross,” Tony answers with a grit of his teeth. “You’re using the king of Wakanda for your shit. Not sure he’ll be happy to hear that.” A pause. “Unless he’s in on this.”

T’Challa shakes his head vigorously, despite knowing that Tony cannot see him. His arms tighten around Tony, and he leans in closer. They can feel each other’s harsh breathing, and Tony stills. T’Challa’s breathing begins to even out. “You are not trapped in your own brain, Tony. Ross is on the other side of the globe. You are here, in Wakanda, and I will not let him harm you. I will never let him get near you. Do you understand?”

Tony gulps, nodding, but his eyes remain widened. T’Challa is _there_ , and he can feel him, feel his grip…

But he’d also felt Steve’s grip in that nightmare Wanda had made him see, holding his arm, telling that he should have saved them, should have done more… He’d felt himself falling from the wormhole all over again when he had the repetitive nightmares… He felt the arc reactor getting ripped out of his chest all over again; often it was Obie, and now sometimes it was Bucky.

Everything felt real. Reality, hallucinations, dreams, nightmares…

But then T’Challa brings him closer, nuzzling Tony’s head into his chest with a gentle arm on the back of his head. Tony can smell him; he carries the scent of grass after a rainy night, the scent of freshly blossomed roses, the scent of rushing waterfalls. It’s not a smell Tony is accustomed to, and certainly not one his mind could easily associate with the king…

“T’Challa?” He rasps. Hopes.

T’Challa breathes a sigh of relief. “Stark. Tony. You are in Wakanda. Everything you feel is real; This is no trick or trap.”

Tony remains quiet for a few moments, taking in his surroundings once again. A fresh breeze is entering the room from the window to his left––the same as the one who stood by every day. It carries the scent of flowers, the sound of rustling leaves… T’Challa is still holding him close, and Tony cannot find it in him to pry himself away.

He’s exhausted.

Whatever energy had erupted when he’d panicked suddenly drains away, and he falls against the king, eyes shut and breathing laboured. When he opens his mouth to speak, nothing but a sob comes out, then another, and another.

T’Challa cradles him patiently.

“Why are you doing this?” Tony asks in a small voice. “Why are you helping me. Why did you bring Bruce in, why did you bring Steve in… why are you risking all of this?”

T’Challa exhales slowly, and pushes himself up, carrying Tony gently along with him. “You should get some rest.”

“But why?” Tony presses as he’s brought to sit down on the edge of the bed.

“Because I think you deserve it.” T’Challa admits slowly. “All of you. You are warriors, and political agendas have come in the way of your job many times––often in good ways, other times not. My father worked with your father, you know that? He admired Howard’s brains, but not his intentions, not his politics. But he liked you, always liked that you broke Howard’s chains and became your own man. You owned up to your mistakes, shut down the weapons manufacturing in Stark Industries. You flew a missile into space.”

“I made Ultron.” Tony supplies.

“A reckless action, a mistake that cost the lives of many. That is the truth. But you have accepted the truth, you do not deny it. I respect that.”

“I wanted to join the registration to prevent things like that from happening again. I caused so much trouble trying to be a hero, I just wanted… I just wanted to be held for my mistakes, to get help stopping myself from creating bigger ones. But here I am.”

“Here you are.”

“I lost all my friends.”

“Did you?”

“Steve hates me. Clint hates me, too. Natasha believes I’m a stubborn, arrogant idiot––which I can’t blame her for. Wanda has no reason to like me. I attacked Bucky.” Tony whispers. “And Rhodey… I put him in danger. He’s paralyzed, T’Challa. Paralyzed.”

“And you are blind. This is what war costs us, what vengeance brings.”

Tony remains silent, unsure of how to respond. T’Challa takes a seat next to him on the edge of the bed. “You are a flawed man, Tony Stark. As is every human on this planet. But you recognize your flaws, and you attempt to bring forth a solution.”

“Always makes it worse than better.”

“You did not make it worse when you flew a missile into space,” T’Challa notes. “Not when you built Vision, either. Or when you stopped manufacturing weaponry for the military.”

Once again, Tony is quiet. “So this is all real.” He says after a while.

“It is.”

“So I’ve lost my vision. For good.”

“I’m afraid so. Unless you work with Helen and Bruce––and I can join when I have the time––to problem solve.”

Problem solve. Can he do that? He doesn’t know. Doesn’t think so.

“So Bruce is really here? Where did you find him?”

“He is. He has been here for a while now: just over seven months. Came to us asking for something similar to the cyro chamber Bucky had requested.” T’Challa explains. “I refused; Unfortunately my team does not have anything to contain the Hulk. He happened to be away when you were brought in, however. A visit to India to check in with some old friends, stayed there for around five weeks.”

That explains why he hadn’t showed up any earlier.

 _But even if he was here the whole time,_ Tony thinks. _Why would he come to visit? He’s got Steve now, and the rest of the team. Doesn’t need the piece of a shit friend who pulled apart the team twice now._

Tony leans back in the bed, resting his head against the fluff, soft pillows, and allows his eyes to droop shut. He straightens his legs out, and T’Challa stands up, giving him room. “You should have let me rot in Siberia,” Tony murmurs.

“Maybe I should have,” T’Challa replies. Then he smiles. “But I am glad that I didn’t.”

He squeezes Tony’s shin over the blanket hastily then leaves the room, shutting the door with a  gentle click. Tony opens his eyes, and imagines that he is staring at the ceiling.

 

* * *

 

**[ THE FOLLOWING MORNING ]**

 

“Pepper is here,” Clint announces, walking into the room. “What is she doing in Wakanda? Did Tony send her?”

“I doubt it,” Sam says, leaning his chair back so its front legs are off the ground. “She didn’t seem involved in the Accords to begin with. Besides, where the Hell _is_ Tony? No one’s heard from him. For all we know, Ross might have imprisoned him.”

Scott scoffs. “Would deserve it.”

Steve sends him a pointed look, but doesn’t comment.

Wanda taps her foot on the floor repeatedly, nervously. “She’s probably here for a Stark Industries trip,” she says.

Clint shrugs. “I hope so.”

Everyone nods, each turning back to whatever had occupied them before Clint had walked in––phones, tv, books. After a few moments of silence, Sam sets down his phone and asks, “Hey, Steve, where’s Barnes?”

“He wanted to go out for a walk.” Steve answers.

“Alone?”

Steve nods. “I wasn’t so sure about it, but he insisted. Said he needed to have his personal space from time to time.”

Sam snorts understandingly.

 

* * *

 

Steve means a lot to Bucky, he really does. He had been his best friend since the 1930s. He didn’t give up on him when he found out he was the Winter Soldier, didn’t give up on him when he found him on the run in Romania. Steve was willing to forsake the entire world if it meant keeping Bucky close.

To say he is lucky to have such a friend would be a severe understatement.

But sometimes… Bucky needs his time alone.

It doesn’t mean that he wants to push Steve away, or that he doesn’t care for Steve (which is what Steve tends to assume); It simply means he wants to have the time to explore himself. The cyro chamber has been in the work for weeks now, and Bucky knew that Steve hated the idea––completely despised it––but it’s what _he_ wants.

He feels horrible about his choice, because Steve had fought everyone to keep Bucky out of prison and cyro chambers… and here was Bucky, asking to return to one.

But it’s what he wants. Surely Steve will understand?

Bucky has been longing to walk the gardens of Wakanda alone, to hear nothing but the tweeting of the birds, the squeaking of the small animals as they fight for food, the singing of the trees under the wind. He breathes it in, appreciating nature in a way he hadn’t had a chance to in years ( _decades_ , really).

He walks for what feels like hours, stopping to take photos of whatever he thinks to be beautiful (or whatever he thinks Steve would like to sketch later). When he’s focusing on the subject of the photo, it becomes easier to forget about himself. There’s a sense of serenity in it.

He’s not sure how he winds up here a while later, but he’s reached a much more secluded section of the gardens. He had never ventured this far with Steve––wasn’t exactly sure he was allowed to. He turns off the camera, shoving it back in his backpack, and lets out a slow exhale. Studying his surroundings, he realizes he’s _pretty_ damn far in the gardens, and doesn’t know which way to head back.

Shit.

Gardens. As if. The Wakandan gardens are apparently large forests filled with more flowers and sunshine than the typical forest.

So Bucky steps back in the direction he’d walked most recently, attempting to trace his steps back using the photos he’d taken earlier. It doesn’t exactly help, not when so much of the forest looks so similar, and soon he’s on a crossroads, unsure of which path to take.

He goes right.

He realizes that he’s taken the wrong path when he comes across a few small houses lining a river, isolated from the remainder of Wakanda. Breathing in a sharp inhale, he steps towards them, deciding that it would be best to ask for the direction to go home. It’s a risk; He has been avoiding communicating with strangers since he’s come to Wakanda, in fear of someone reporting his presence to the UN.

As he nears the houses, he hears a familiar voice, and mumbles a quick thanks to the God. When you’re lost in a foreign country, the best person to find is the king of said country who was kind enough to bring you in under his protection.

The voice that comes answering the king, however, throws Bucky off guard.

“There is a small step down from here,” T’Challa is saying, his voice growing closer. “Be careful. Can you use your cane to feel for it?”

There is some tapping, then the second person says, “I think I got it?”

“You did.” T’Challa confirms, and the footsteps continue.

What the Hell was Stark doing in Wakanda? And why was he with T’Challa? Was he a threat? Had T’Challa found him in Siberia, when he’d told them he hadn’t?

Numerous questions run through Bucky’s head, and he looks around frantically, looking for the best way to disappear back into the forest (which is now a fair distance away) before the nearing footsteps get too close.

When he turns back, looking at the direction of the houses again to make sure that the other men haven’t gotten any closer, he feels the breath getting knocked out of his chest.

T’Challa and Tony stand right before him.

T’Challa’s eyes widen slightly, then narrow, his fists curling at his sides. Tony tilts his head, puzzled. “T’Challa? Why’d you stop?”

Bucky’s eyes fall on Tony’s face, and he can’t help but exhale a shaky breath at the sight of the man. His eyes are unseeing, swiftly jerking from one side to the other, never quite focusing on anything. They’re wide open, and they seem a little glossy. His hair is a mess now; Much longer, draping just below his ears and over his eyebrows in large curls. His goatee has grown into a beard, but it seems to be groomed well enough. His fingers curl  tightly around the head of long cane.

He looks much younger than Bucky remembers, and much more… fragile.

And it seems that whatever issue had surfaced with his eyesight during the fight in Siberia has not been resolved.

Gulping nervously, Bucky’s gaze jerks back to T’Challa, and he raises his one arm slowly. He doesn’t want to come across as a threat, doesn’t want T’Challa to think that he’d followed him down here, or that he had come to harm Tony.

“King T’Challa,” he says breathlessly. “I was just walking around the gardens and I got lost… I didn’t know you were here.” He pauses to lick his lips quickly. “I swear.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bruce! Helen! Pepper! Bucky! T'Challa! lol lots more characters in this chapter c:
> 
> I have the next chapter(s) planned out already but I'm curious to see what you guys think of his finding out about Tony. Unlike Wanda, he can't keep the fact that he knows secret––not when he's caught in the act, lol!


	6. The first meeting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a shorter chapter today. I actually have the next few scenes written, but I felt like this needed its own chapter to further emphasize the break in the timeline.
> 
> Bucky is finally becoming a centric character in the story!! yay!
> 
> ALSO 715 kudos! Thank you guys so so much for all the kind reactions to the fic xx I hope you continue to enjoy it.

“King T’Challa,” Bucky begins breathlessly. “I was just walking around the gardens and I got lost… I didn’t know you were here.” He pauses to lick his lips quickly. “I swear.”

He can’t keep his mouth shut. It suddenly occurs to him that Tony maybe would _not_ have noticed his presence if he hadn’t spoken up.

T’Challa shares the same thought. He would have been willing to push Tony on, to convince him it was nothing, until he had the time to question James later. But the man hadn’t given him the chance to do that; No, he had to speak.

But Tony notices Bucky’s presence, recognizes that voice easily.

They’ve found him.

Bucky never left Steve’s side. Is Steve by his side now? Is he sneering down at Tony, happy that the man has suffered the consequences of opposing him and attacking his friend? Tony can’t hear Steve’s voice, but he can feel his ghost hovering over him, whispering, mocking.

_Man in a suit of armour, take that away and what are you?_

A genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist. He’d said it with such confidence, with unnerving snark. But who is he now? T’Challa, Bruce, Pepper, Helen… they all try to convince him that nothing’s changed. But it has––everything changed the moment he agreed to sign the accords and oppose Steve on the matter.

Bucky’s here. The man who was used by Hydra, who was a victim of his own actions. The man Tony had relentlessly attacked, losing grip on his sanity as he lashed out at him. But the footage was hard to watch, God, it was _hard_. And Steve had known and kept it a secret, and Bucky was right _there_ , watching him, waiting for his reaction.

Now he’s back for revenge.

Tony’s grip on the cane loosens, and it falls to the ground, clattering loudly. His hands are shaking lightly, and his eyes are wide, searching for T’Challa, searching for a way out of the Winter Soldier’s path.

Then he corrects his thoughts; not the Winter Soldier, Stark, stop _calling_ him that. James Barnes. The man brainwashed by Hydra, who had no choice in becoming that deadly weapon.

He steps back hastily, reaching out with both of his arms, unsure of which direction to take. Then he turns around, and steps forward, and he’s doing _fine_ until his foot comes into contact with a step of stone and he falls face forward. The majority of the impact lands on his forearms––they get scraped as he hits the ground, and it _burns_. His left cheek gets a little scraped as well, and he can feel some blood oozing out of the cuts.

But he immediately scrambles back up to his feet, searching for something to hold onto as he pushes himself up––and clutches nothing but thin air. Before he can plummet to the ground again, strong arms find him, helping him find his balance.

“Tony, breathe.”

He’s breathing. He’s breathing, isn’t he? Maybe he’s not. He feels a breath trapped at the back of his throat, refusing to be released, and he doesn’t know how long he’s been holding it for. Painfully aware of his breathing, now, he struggles to inhale properly.

“ _Tony_.”

“Hes’s––He’s gonna kill me––” Tony stammers, clutching T’Challa’s arms. He attempts to move to the side, to run away, but T’Challa holds him in place. “ _T’Challa_ , he’s––he’s here––Steve’s gonna kill me too––”

T’Challa’s gaze travels to Bucky, and Bucky is surprised to see that it holds no anger or hardness. Instead, it’s… saddened. It tells Bucky to _look_ , to see what’s become of the man they’d fought against, the man the team continued to speak so horribly of as of late. And though it doesn’t challenge Bucky to feel any guilt, Bucky cannot control the spike of guilt that rises at the sight of Tony scrambling away in fear.

“I won’t kill you,” Bucky says. He wants to sound confident, reassuring, but his voice comes out weak. He clears his throat, and steps closer. “I can’t kill you. My arm is still gone, I… You don’t have to fear it?”

God _damn_ it, Barnes. If that was supposed to sound reassuring, he had miserably failed. He shakes his head, looking helplessly at the king.

Tony’s shaking intensifies, and he collapses to the ground, his hands slowly slipping down T’Challa’s arms. Bucky’s arm is gone, and it’s because _he_ blew it off with the uni-beam. The arm had been his major area of strength… and now he was powerless.

But it was the arm he used to strangle his father, his mother, as they helplessly called out to each other and begged for mercy.

“I won’t kill you.” Bucky repeats, louder this time. “I won’t hurt you. I’m sorry, I didn’t _know_ you were here––either of you! I got lost, I _swear_.”

T’Challa nods at Bucky, and crouches next to Tony. “You should return to your room. Barnes won’t hurt you, you heard him. He stumbled upon us by accident.”

“But _I_ hurt him,” Tony says, his words stringed together hurriedly. “B––Blew off his arm, attacked–” a shaky exhale, “–attacked him in Siberia, blamed him, but––but he killed them––”

“He’s not seeking vengeance, Stark.” T’Challa says, heaving a sigh. “Come. Can you stand?”

Tony sits still for a minute, gathering his strength, then nods. As he pushes himself up to his feet, relying heavily on T’Challa’s support, he mumbles, “Steve. He’s here?”

“Captain Rogers is not here.”

“He’s gonna tell him.”

T’Challa furrows his eyebrow, slowly pulling one of his arms away from Tony, allowing the other man to steady himself. “What will he tell? To whom?”

“Barnes,” Tony whispers. “He’s gonna tell Steve. That I’m here.”

When T’Challa turns his head to see Bucky, Bucky immediately shakes his head. T’Challa exhales patiently, and says, “You stay here. I will take Stark back to his room, then I will lead you back to the city.”

Bucky nods, shoving his hand into the pocket of his sweater. He watches the other two men walk back to the houses, Tony occasionally losing his footing, T’Challa being his guide as opposed to the cane, which is still lying on the ground in front of Bucky.

Stark’s immediate reaction to his presence was thinking Bucky would kill him.

And yet, his voice carried guilt when he mentioned that he had attacked Bucky and blew off his arm.

Stark is conflicted about how he should feel with regards Bucky; anger at what he saw him do, at what Steve had done just for him… and anger at himself for not realizing the man was a victim.

Barnes, too, is conflicted about Stark; anger at the man blowing his arm off, blaming him for actions he had no choice in doing…. but understanding, too, because he _did_ kill those people, and his face would forever be associated with their deaths.

They can’t entirely hate each other, Bucky thinks, because they don’t _know_ each other.

And while Steve constantly told Bucky that he did not have to defend his innocence… Bucky continues to believe he owes some people an apology.

 

* * *

 

“You are still here,” comes T’Challa’s voice after a while, snapping Bucky out of his thoughts.

“You did order me to stay here.” Bucky notes.

T’Challa smiles, crossing his arms, and walks closer to Bucky. “I found him, when I went to search for him in Siberia. He was exactly where you said you had left him… and you were right about his vision.” He glances at the cane from the corner of his eyes. “He could not see.”

“And he still can’t,” Bucky murmurs, following his gaze.

T’Challa nods. “I hope you understand why I had to keep his presence a secret. He was not faring well; for the first few weeks, he refused to speak, to eat, to drink. All he spoke of was the darkness that consumed his vision.”

Bucky shudders.

“He has expressed, multiple times, that he regrets attacking you.” T’Challa continues. “But his fear lives, despite his best attempts at pushing it down. His last memory of the team, of his life before Wakanda, was the fight. It was the last thing he saw. He could not see your face today, looking much less worn out. He will not see Captain’s face when they meet again––whether Steve will look apologetic, or angry, or relieved. His last memory of Rogers _will_ be that fight.”

Bucky looks down, and nods understandably.

He’d asked Steve, _“what are you going to do about your friends?”_

Steve insisted he would deal with it later. That everything he was doing was worth it.

That Bucky was worth it.

But that “later” time may never come, not when Tony had gotten so _hurt_ after their fight. What T’Challa is saying is true––regardless of whether or not Tony forgives them, or if he seeks their forgiveness… he cannot control the memories, or the fear.

Somehow, Bucky knows Steve will be devastated to realize that the last Tony will remember of him is that fight, is Steve crushing the suit’s reactor with his shield, is Steve _walking_ _away_ even after he called out for help and said that he could not see anything.

They shouldn’t have walked away.

“You cannot tell Rogers,” T’Challa says, and Bucky looks up again, his lips pressed thinly. “Do you understand?”

Bucky nods.

“Barnes,” T’Challa presses, stepping closer. “Stark is not well enough to see Rogers. I doubt that once you tell Steve, that he will remain quiet and will give Stark his space. You know he won’t. Whether he means good or ill, he will insist on seeing Tony, will insist on speaking with him. Stark has asked me, repeatedly, to ensure that I do not inform Rogers of his whereabouts.”

Bucky gulps softly.

“Do you understand?” T’Challa repeats.

Letting out a soft exhale, Bucky nods, stronger this time, and promises, “I won’t tell him.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual, I hope you enjoyed the chapter!
> 
> I want to note that Steve in this fic is actually more at fault than movie!Cap because he DID leave Tony behind. So if you read what Bucky/T'Challa/Tony say about him and thought "but Steve wasn't /that/ bad" please consider that his actions left much worse consequences in the universe of the fic!! :)


	7. The Truth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit more of a bridge chapter, sorry! To connect some small dots for upcoming ones.

“ _I don’t believe…. I don’t believe it…_ ” Tony sings, nodding his head along to the beat. He’d been avoiding blasting music lately, since he’d been relying so heavily on his hearing… But now he has his earphones in, listening to songs that were, really, never his style. For some odd reason, he seems to enjoy them now. “ _You left in peace, left me in pieces… too hard to breathe… I’m on my knees right now…_ ”

_Steve, you’re leaving?_

_Steve. I can’t see anything._

He taps his foot on the ground, then shakes his head, his singing breaking off. Heaving a sigh, he pulls out the earbuds, and settles them on the nightstand. He’s slowly getting more used to the room, and it makes him feel much more comfortable knowing his surroundings.

Shuffling sounds at the other end of the room, and Tony stills, until Bruce speaks up. “Hey, Tony. You had your earbuds in, we didn’t want to touch you and frighten you if you hadn’t heard me coming.”

"Hello, Tony," T'Challa adds. 

A small smile forms on Tony’s face. “I would have turned into a hulk myself, I think, if you gave me a scare like that.” He sits up in the bed. “Sorry, I know I shouldn’t cut off my hearing like that, but I’ve been listening to sappy music lately. Can you believe it? Me, listening to sappy music.”

Bruce walks over to the bed, hands shoved in the pockets of his pants. “That’s okay, Tony. I think we all need to listen to music. Believe it or not, Hulk’s favourite music genre is rap. Interesting, right?”

“Rap?!” Tony exclaims, his eyes widening in genuine surprise. “God, imagine Hulk dancing to Nicki Minaj. Actually, scratch that, no. I don’t want to imagine that.”

Bruce laughs. “Yeah. I should show you, sometime." He pauses, then: "Hey, We.. we came here to talk about Project Spring.”

Tony’s smile fades, and he sinks back into the bed. “I thought we talked about this. The damage isn’t in my eyes, Bruce, and Project Spring is a lens that connects to the brain instead of the real eye tissues. But you know that my brain wouldn’t receive those signals, not anymore. The lens won’t do any good.”

“Maybe not for you,” Bruce agrees. “But it might help others. Consider what you’re going through, and think about a child who’s never gotten to see their mother’s face. Project Spring could help them see, Tony. You started it for them, not yourself. Finish it for them.”

Tony runs a hand through his hair. “Yeah, I did. But I don’t… I can’t really do much in this state, Bruce. I know––I know, you and Helen are helping, and you’re here, and I appreciate it _so_ much, but… It’s hard. It’s hard to put my ideas out when I can’t draw them or design them myself.”

T'Challa lets out a hesitant breath, then says, “you know, someone could see the images in your brain and bring them to life for us. The two of you were not the best of friends, but we have spoken, and she said that she would be willing to help us.”

"Wanda Maximoff," Bruce supplies.

Wanda Maximoff.

“You can’t be serious,” Tony hisses, sitting up straighter. “The witch?”

“I know you two have had your differences, but––”

“If she finds out I’m here, T'Challa, she’ll––she’ll kill me! Or she’ll tell Steve to kill me! Or she’ll make you all see worse things about me, or, or… or if she gets to my head again, God, Bruce, I won’t handle it––If all I can see is what she shows me, I’ll lose it! I’ll go insane. How do you know she won’t manipulate my fears again? How… How do you know she won’t make shit up about what she sees in my head? No, Bruce, _no_ , you can’t tell Wanda that I’m here––”

“Tony!” Bruce shouts, on the brink of panic. He exhales slowly then adds, in a calmer manner, “Tony, Wanda already knows you’re here.”

She… She what?

“Oh, God.” Tony groans, running his hands over his face. "How can you trust her, Bruce? After all she did to you in Sokovia?"

"Tony, I don't trust her." Bruce points out. "But I don't think she's a threat. Isn't that how you felt about her, too? After Ultron. She joined the Avengers team, and you never complained. Look, I'm very wary of her, but at this point... Maybe we can't trust everyone, but there are people we can work with, regardless. I spoke to her a few times... She regrets a lot of things, Tony. I heard it, T'Challa heard it."

"Oh, _does_ she?"

T'Challa exhales patiently. "I know it sounds bizarre... but it is an option I would like you to consider."

“And is that why Barnes showed up around here? She told him?”

Bruce raises an eyebrow. “Barnes showed up? Here?”

“A few days back,” Tony tells him. “Proclaimed he was lost in the Wakandan forest and accidentally stumbled upon us. Figured he would be lying. If she told Barnes, then she must have told Rogers.”

“I don't believe that think she told Barnes, Stark." T'Challa argues. "She has no reason to tell him; If she wanted to reveal the news to anyone, it would have been Rogers."

“I have to get out of here.” Tony decides. “I have to leave Wakanda. Rogers is going to come next, and he won’t be happy to see me alive. He’s going to kill me, for good. I can’t stay here, Bruce. You have to help me get out.”

Bruce takes a deep breath. “You’re not going anywhere, Tony. This place is the safest for you, for me, for all of us. Steve doesn’t know you’re here. Trust me, if he did, we would have all known by now.”

Tony’s shoulders sag. “I can’t be around Wanda. She hates me, for _everything_. She played with my head once… she can do it again. And now that, well, can’t see–” he gestures vaguely around his face, “-she’ll be able to make me see whatever _she_ wants me to see, and I’ll be trapped in it. For good. Please, just, no Wanda. Okay?”

Bruce nods understandingly. “Of course, Tony, no one will force you to see her. Right, King T'Challa?"

"Of course. You will do nothing against your will, Tony."

They stay in silence for a few minutes. Bruce studies Tony carefully; the man has become a shell of who he once was. He still looks like himself on the outside, but he’s changed. A lot. He’s not very good at putting up a mask, Bruce thinks. Once, Tony would have been able to fake a laugh without second thought, would have hid his sadness behind layers and layers of snark and sarcasm.

But not anymore. Now, Tony’s expression betrays him. His face automatically conforms to express whatever he’s feeling––sadness, anger, hurt, relief…

Tony feels vulnerable, because of that. He doesn’t know how he looks, doesn’t know how the person before him looks, or what expression they hold. It’s hard, faking your emotions when he is having a hard time understanding the intentions of the people around him. Fortunately, he’s ended up in Wakanda.

T’Challa has been… _incredible_ , perhaps, would be an understatement. Helpful. Understanding, empathizing. Encouraging. No matter what Tony did, he supported him. If Tony collapsed, T’Challa would help him hop right back on his feet––both literally and figuratively. If Tony pushed froward, T’Challa would praise him, inspire him to do more.

Now, Bruce and Helen were by his side as well. Pepper had had to leave a few days after her visit, to avoid having her visit causing suspicion. Occasionally, Tony spoke to Rhodey; On their first call, Tony had made an utter fool of himself, crying and sobbing and apologizing… but Rhodey said that he forgave him.

That was all Tony could ask for. Forgiveness.

Would Barnes ever forgive him?

…. _Should_ he want Barnes to forgive him? Should he seek forgiveness for what he did?

Tony really, really doesn’t know how to feel about Barnes. But the man promised that he wouldn’t hurt him, when they met earlier. In fact, he didn’t hurt him. Instead, Tony had panicked, collapsing like a weakling until T’Challa helped him back to his room.

“I overreacted,” Tony tells Bruce, breaking the silence. “When I saw… When I _heard_ Barnes.”

Bruce raises his eyebrows, alarmed, and exchanges a glance with T'Challa. “Overreacted how?”

“I panicked.” Tony admits. “And rambled. I thought he was going to hurt me.”

“But he didn’t.”

“But he didn’t.” Tony confirms. “He promised that he didn’t want to hurt me, and said that his… bionic arm… wasn’t fixed yet? He lost it because of me, I used the unibeam on his arm, Bruce. The unibeam. I thought he’d hunt me down for that.” A pause. “Does he only have one arm?”

“He does. I offered him an alternative, but he refused. He said he would rather avoid having another bionic arm, for now." T'Challa answers.

Bruce adds, "and… No, he doesn’t want to hunt you down, Tony. No one does. I mean, Clint is still a little bitter at you––don’t ask me why, I don’t really get it myself. Scott seems to have a thing against Starks. But Wanda… she understands. She understands why you attacked Bucky, and she doesn’t blame you.”

Huh. Maximoff, of all people, would understand _him_? “Oh. That’s good? I think.”

He doesn’t ask about Steve, because, truthfully, he’s not sure he wants to know the answer.

“Oh!” Bruce exclaims, standing abruptly. “We almost forgot. T’Challa got us some braille cards, so we can play card games. How’s your braille reading coming along? I don’t want you to lose then blame it on your braille skills.”

Tony laughs, whole-heartedly, and puts up a middle finger. “Oh, sure. You know I’ll win regardless of what cards we use. Even if they’re not braille, and I can’t see shit, I’ll win.”

“Oh yeah?” Bruce challenges, smiling playfully.

“ _Hell_ yeah. Bring it on, Banner.”

 

* * *

 

Wanda understands why Tony refused to see her. She can’t bring herself to be angry with the man, not really. Especially not after what Bruce had told her about his condition.

She hadn’t known that Steve had left him behind like that. As far as she knew, they had fought, Tony lashing out at Bucky. Steve attacked Tony, disabled his suit, and escaped with Bucky, T’Challa and Zemo. Everyone assumed that, well, Stark would have easily found a way out.

But he didn’t. And he’d asked Steve for help. He’d _told_ Steve that he could no longer see––and Steve left him lying there, in the cold, in a disabled suit, blinded.

Wanda can’t believe that Rogers would do that. Surely Stark was exaggerating?

She could see stills of Stark lying on the ground whenever she studied Steve’s thoughts, but her powers did not extend to _hearing_ anything in those stills. She can watch dreams, but not memories.

There is only one person who can deliver the truth.

When Bucky steps out for some fresh air after lunch one day, Wanda follows him out discreetly, making sure to avoid stirring Steve’s suspicion. Bucky is walking slowly, touching a few flowers as he walks by, snapping photos. Wanda can hardly believe that he was once the Winter Soldier.

 _That’s what Hydra does, I suppose_ , she thinks. _It turns the most innocent of us into raging monsters._

As they step further away from the mansion (where they all reside), Wanda speeds her footing and calls out, “James?”

Bucky startles, turning around immediately. He gulps, then eases out a soft breath. “Wanda.”

“Can I talk to you?” She asks, and continues to walk. Bucky falls into step with her. “I want to know what happened that day. In Siberia.”

Bucky stills, and comes to a halt. “About the fight?”

Wanda nods. “I have… sources, who told me that Steve didn’t deliver the full story. You were the only other person there. I want to know what happened.”

“And what did you hear, exactly?”

“I would rather you tell me first.”

Bucky looks away, inhaling sharply. His jaw clenches. “Why?”

Wanda narrows her eyes, focusing on the memories coming to light in Bucky’s mind. Stark lying on the ground, then on his side. Saying something. But she can’t know what he’s saying. “I just want to know that Steve is not keeping secrets from us, too.”

Bucky wants to defend Steve, wants to tell Wanda that her “source” is only trying to pit her against her friend, her leader. But then… but then he remembers Tony, using a cane and following T’Challa’s guide, his hair mussed and his eyes unfocused… Collapsing to the ground in fear…

Wanda gasps, and Bucky’s gaze snaps to her. She’d invaded his thoughts. His lips pull back, and his nose scrunches in anger. He takes a step towards her, and she steps back, her breathing heavy, heart thundering.

“You saw him here.” She says, trying to keep her voice steady. “You saw Stark. Carrying a cane. So what they said is true. Steve left Stark to rot in Siberia after he _blinded_ him.”

She can’t control the anger rising in her voice.

“You,” Bucky thunders, “invaded my mind. You––you can’t just––”

“Answer me!” Wanda insists, her hands tightening into fists at her sides. “Did Steve blind Stark? Did he leave him there, without aid?”

“You’re no better than Hydra, thinking you have the right to everyone else’s minds––”

That stings. Wanda continues to inch backwards with every step Bucky takes towards her. His eyes look lethal––and suddenly, Wanda sees the Winter Soldier. She sees the man Stark feared, the man Natasha was hesitant to help.

The man Steve refused to see.

“Did he lie to us, too? Is that who Steve Rogers is?” Wanda presses, her voice beginning to waver. “Answer me, James!”

Bucky stops, then, and he shuts his eyes tightly. Wanda watches him carefully, sparks of her magic forming at her fingertips. When he opens his eyes, Wanda no longer sees the deadly, angered man in them; Instead, he looks defeated, ashamed.

“Yes.” He says in a small voice. “Steve… he didn’t mean to. Didn’t mean to blind Tony.”

“But he did.” The magic represses from Wanda’s fingertips, and she stands straighter. “He did, and he walked away. He didn’t think to even _tell_ us about it. He let us think Stark was a mad man who attacked you and walked out of it with no consequences.”

“He…” Bucky throws his arm up, exasperated. “We were wrong, to walk away from Stark like that. But Steve was blinded by desperation––”

“Stop giving poor excuses.” Wanda snarls. “So he was blinded in that moment. Why did he not own up to it? Why didn’t he express his remorse? No, he kept it hidden from all of us. He decided to just––to just let us think that Stark was the only man blinded by rage during that fight.”

Bucky can’t argue that.

“I am glad,” Wanda says, “that I never told Steve about Tony being here. I almost did, but that was before I knew that Steve had let him _rot_ in freezing Siberia.”

“You knew that Stark was here?”

“T’Challa’s thoughts. His memories. I invaded his mind, too.” Wanda admits. “He knows. I told him, and I apologized for it. And I promised that no one would know about Stark. At least I owned up to my mistake.”

Bucky snorts. “And here you are, keeping secrets from Steve. Who are you to judge him?”

Wanda finds herself smiling, despite herself. “I’m only keeping the same secret from him as you are.”

Bucky sighs. He can’t argue that either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What did you think of that encounter between Wanda and Bucky?! :)
> 
> And the sciencebros?? :P
> 
> Once again, remember that in this fic Steve is worse than he was in the movie, so this is reflecting on what he did in the fic as opposed to solely the movie.


	8. The Frenemy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So you guys might notice that I have an end game chapter in mind now! The fic will be around 13 chapters... seeing where it goes, I may add another chapter or so, or an epilogue, but it's mostly planned out now c:
> 
> And since I don't want to drag on with the fic, I thought I should start getting to the real issues that need to be tackled!
> 
> Enjoy x
> 
> EDIT: The last scene in the chapter has been fixed/changed!

The birds no longer chirp as soundly as before, Tony realizes. Autumn is nearing; the breeze is getting cooler, the wind is picking up, and the sun no longer blazes onto his skin. Once, this would have been his favourite weather, his favourite time of year. He would look at the leaves turning into hues of oranges and red, falling into piles onto the grass and sidewalks.

But when he has nothing to look at, he realizes that Autumn is lonely. It’s lonely without all the small animals and birds making loud noises. It’s lonely when all he can hear are the leaves crushing beneath his feet with every step he takes; once a satisfying feeling, now nothing but an aggravating one.

Winter can only be worse.

Does it snow in Wakanda? Tony is unsure. He hopes that it doesn’t, because that would mean that he would no longer be allowed to step out for small walks like this, even with a nurse by his side. Recently, he’d been stepping out on his own, relying heavily on his cane and his hands for guidance. In the first few times, he fell quite a number of times, adding new scratches and scrapes to the canvas of his body. But he didn’t let it get to him. He had to get accustomed to doing things on his own now.

He exhales softly, and brings his arms around himself, finding warmth in the soft wool of the knitted sweater he’s wearing. Then he leans back against the wooden bench, and stares up at the sky.

What does it look like, he wonders?

He thinks it must be a greying sky, given the general atmosphere he’s feeling with the weather. Probably cloudy, dark.

He hears a few footsteps approaching, and stills. No one is trying to sneak onto him, that’s for sure, not when the leaves and branches are cracking so obviously beneath their feet. Maybe they want Tony to notice them. Then, the person pauses, and lets out a shaky breath. Tony tilts their head in their direction.

“You’re definitely not T’Challa,” Tony says. The king would not have been so hesitant. “Let me guess: Bruce? Your steps are just not delicate enough to be Helen’s, that’s for sure.”

“No. But I’m also not Bruce.”

Tony’s eyes widen, and he sits up straight. “Barnes?”

Bucky steps closer, and takes a seat on the far edge of the bench, hand shoved in the pocket of his sweater. “I’m not here to hurt you. I promise.”

Tony forces himself to take a deep breath, counting the seconds to his breathing. When he exhales, he asks, “then why are you here?”

Bucky’s gaze flickers to the landscape lying before them. It’s beautiful scenery; the trees are decorated with splotches of red and orange, the ground is a river of fallen leaves. The sky is clear, blue and cloudless, but the sun is not blaring. He turns back to Tony, studying the man’s unseeing eyes. “I don’t know. I just…” Bucky shakes his head. “It’s wrong, not talking to you. I never got to speak to you before… The only people I communicated with were Steve, Sam and occasionally Wanda.”

Tony raises his eyebrows. He wasn’t sure what he expected, but it certainly wasn’t this. “And why should we talk now? Did Steve send you?”

“Steve doesn’t know I’m here.” Bucky answers, a little defensively. “He doesn’t you’re here, either. I never told him.”

“Then why? You want me to apologize for attacking you?”

Bucky shrugs. He doesn’t know what he wants to hear, or what he wants to say. It just feels _wrong_ to leave Stark like that, isolated. It feels wrong to have never heard his point of view. “Maybe?” He counters, weakly. “I… I want to apologize for what I did?”

Before the fall, Bucky had been very good at discussing emotions, tackling problems. Not anymore. All he can do is stutter and struggle to find the words he wants to say… but he _needs_ to try to speak, he needs to let it out.

Tony is quiet for a few moments, his eyes staring at Bucky’s general direction. Then, he turns his head down, and in a small voice he says: “You didn’t have a choice.”

“But I did it.”

But he did it. And Tony watched every moment of it. He feels panic rising once again at the memories flashing across his mind… Maria calling for Howard, Howard begging The Winter Soldier to let Maria go, Maria getting strangled in her seat…

“What do you want?” Tony asks again, his voice wary. It doesn’t hold a challenge, only exhaustion.

Bucky doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, he shrugs again, opening and closing his mouth multiple times, his eyes focused on a tree across from him. When he glances back at Tony, he shakes his head. He doesn’t _know_. He wants to apologize for allowing Steve to leave him behind. He wants to apologize for his entire _existence_ , which had gotten Steve into all this trouble. And yet, he wants Tony to know why Tony did what he did, what he had been thinking.

All he can say is: “I gotta go.”

Tony only nods, turning his head away in the opposite direction, where the river lies behind a border of trees. Bucky stands up, inhaling a deep breath, and stands for a moment before walking away.

 

* * *

 

“Why did you sign the Accords?”

Tony startles, dropping the braille book he was holding in his hands. “How the Hell did you get in here?” He asks, barely containing the anger in his voice.

“I want to know.” Bucky says, firmly. “I don’t understand you. No one does, no one explains your side. Why did you do it? You knew it was going to hurt you and your friends, ultimately.  I don’t understand.”

Tony’s jaw clenches, and he stands up, reaching for his cane. He was sitting on one of the armchairs in the common room of the small house, reading a short story in Braille in _peace_., before Barnes somehow snuck in. How did Barnes find out about Tony’s exact whereabouts?

“Was it Maximoff who told you where to find me? I don’t really know her powers, you know. Apparently she can do anything.” He asks. When he finds his cane, he unfolds it and stands in the direction that he thinks is facing Barnes. “Why are you here?”

“I want to know,” Bucky says slowly, “I want to know who you are. I hear everyone talking about you, throwing different opinions. Some tell me I should hate you, others say I can’t blame you. I’m tired of everyone _dictating_ my actions, telling me how I should feel and what I should do.” His words are ground out, and his fists are curled at his sides. “So I don’t _know_ how to feel, or what I should do.”

Tony’s breath catches in his throat as Bucky speaks, then he lets it out slowly, his eyes softening. He doesn’t know who Barnes is, either. He’d only heard about the man from Steve, or Natasha, or T’Challa… Some days, he feels guilt when he thinks about him, others he feels anger. It’s frustrating.

Surprisingly, it feels good to know that Barnes shares that same frustration.

“I signed the Accords because I wanted to be held accountable for my mistakes.” Tony explains, the tension in his shoulders easing. “I made a lot of mistakes in my life, Barnes. And I can’t deny it. I can’t live pretending that what I did was right, and convincing myself it won’t happen again. Because it does, it always happens again and it’s always worse the next time.”

“So you let your friends be labelled as criminals.”

“I didn’t _let_ them be anything.” Tony argues. “They knew that they were going against the law, that they would be called criminals. Did you know Ross had orders to shoot Steve on sight if necessary? I had to beg to get the 36 hours to bring him in without violence. But I didn’t know he would… that he would lock them up like that. That wasn’t anywhere in the Accords… He strapped Wanda down, he put them in the middle of the ocean. I didn’t _know_ that.”

His voice is loud, and his breathing is shaky, but he doesn’t care. He’s been wanting to say this for a long time, he’s been wanting someone to listen. And here stands Barnes, wanting to _understand_ what Tony thought––and he’s the first person to even ask.

When Bucky doesn’t respond, Tony adds, “And I didn’t want to kill you. I wanted to hand you over to the ATCU, a government facility. Ross would never get his hands on you in it––”

“You don’t know that,” Bucky interjects, but his voice holds no accusation.

“I do know that. The ATCU is actually run by Phil Coulson, one of my friends. One of Captain’s biggest fans. SHIELD is running parts of the government, Barnes, and I would never have handed you over to Ross. Not after what he did to Bruce.”

Bucky furrows his eyebrows, and his posture eases as well. “Then why didn’t you tell Steve?”

Tony shakes his head, smiling bemusedly. “I told him you would be in safe hands if he signed. But he got angry about the fact that I was keeping Wanda locked up in the facility, and got angry––and yes, I know he might have had every right to. But he didn’t quite give me the chance to finish. Maybe I should have pushed on, told him the details as he began to walk out. I didn’t. My mistake.”

Tony had also attempted to explain to Steve the situation at the airport.

 _You broke the team when you signed the Accords_.

Of course, it was Tony’s fault. Because when he acted on his own instincts, without waiting for Steve’s approval, he was putting the team at risk and creating dangerous creatures… but he was also breaking the team apart when he wanted them to have another leader, an outsider who could help judge their purpose?

“This is messed up.” Bucky notes. “This is really fucked up.”

Tony silently agrees.

“So you didn’t want to kill me. Not until you saw the footage.”

Tony nods.

 

* * *

 

Four days later, they meet again. As soon as Tony recognizes that it’s Bucky––he has a particular way of walking: his steps are heavy, his feet drag along the leaves, and his breathing is loud––he says: “Barnes, look. I think… I owe you that apology.”

Bucky raises an eyebrow, and leans back against a tree. “Hm.”

“I attacked you. I was fed up, and angry, and betrayed. I lashed out, I lost it. I knew it wasn’t your fault, butI kind of overlooked the detail.” His knuckles tighten around the cane. “I only knew that you were brainwashed during the fight, did you know? Steve stopped to tell me, ’ _it wasn’t him! Hydra made him do it!_ ’. But I… I was too far in. I didn’t process it.”

“I understand.” Bucky rasps. “And since we’re doing this… I have to apologize, too. Because I did it, and I remember it. And… I’m sorry for leaving you there. I heard you saying that you couldn’t see, and I didn’t stop to look back.”

“I can’t hold that against you,” Tony says, matter-of-factly. “I’d just blown your arm off.”

Bucky finds himself smiling, despite himself. “I guess there will always be consequences of war.”

Tony inhales thinly. He thinks back to Rhodey, losing his legs. To himself, losing his vision. To Clint, losing his family. To Bucky, losing his arm. To Steve, losing his title.

They all lost something. They lost each _other_. Tony hadn’t yet had the chance to speak to anyone… T’Challa and Bruce were not confident in setting up the meeting just yet, telling him that the some of the team was still too angry with him.

But here is Bucky, speaking with him. Bucky is the first person to apologize to Tony.

Tony feels some of the heaviness lift off his chest.

 

* * *

 

“How come Loki couldn’t mind control you?” Bucky asks one day.

Tony’s hand hovers over his own chest. “I had my arc reactor, back then. He tried, but couldn’t get to my heart. Not my biological one.”

“You had two hearts?” Bucky asks in disbelief.

“You don’t know what the arc reactor is? Did no one tell you shit about me?”

“I’m afraid not, Stark. I’m afraid not. How did you have two hearts?”

“Well, one was magnet to keep the shrapnel from getting to my real heart, and––”

“You had shrapnel in your body?”

“You didn’t… hear about Afghanistan?”

“… No?”

“Oh, boy. I’m a little offended that no one told you anything about me.” Tony admits. “But… That means I gotta tell you everything. It’s a long story, filled with shitty people and, well, lots of idiocy on my behalf.”

“I told Steve I’d be out for a few hours. I’m all ears.”

 

* * *

 

“They treat me like a porcelain china doll.”

Tony’s eyes flutter open, he turns his head to the right, where Bucky is sitting next to him on the bench. Somehow, he’d gotten used to the other man stopping by more frequently, most often at the common room or here, at the park.

Barnes has a thing for not properly introducing his presence. He never says a “hello” or “Tony?”, like everyone else. Instead, he sits next to Tony and picks up conversation.

Tony hates to admit it, but it makes him feel more at ease with the presence of the man. Barnes is not putting up any formal walls between them––he’d laid it out. He wants to know Tony, wants to understand the man. Tony had said that he, too, would like to know Bucky. Eventually, that meant that Bucky would stop by every once in a while, and they would… talk. Bucky spoke about the memories he remembered from his days before the fall, and how there are many things he does not remember (but he doesn’t like to tell that to Steve, because it would let him down). It was personal information Bucky spoke of, freely giving it to Tony, _trusting_ him not to use it against him.

Tony’s unsure when the sense of trust developed between them over the past few weeks, because he, too, began to tell Bucky stories about his days with Rhodey in MIT, and his first years with Pepper. Things not many people got to hear.

What they find funny is that they technically should be… enemies, or perhaps antagonists.

But they’re not.

‘ _Should we be feeling bad for speaking to each other so often? Steve doesn’t even know where I disappear off to’._ Bucky had asked once. Tony had shrugged and replied, ‘ _I don’t know, but I’m enjoying the company of a 96 year old with greasy hair. Unless you got it styled since I last saw it?’_

“I just… I hate it.” Bucky continues, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m messed up, I know it. But I don’t want to be weak.”

“You’re not weak, James.” Tony assures him.

“No one else seems to think that.” Bucky says bitterly. “They want to support me, and I really appreciate it. But their support is… they act more like they want to… mute me down? I can’t speak up about how I feel, about the guilt that kills me, because Steve will jump to reassure me that it wasn’t my fault, that I shouldn’t be feeling this. But I am! I am feeling it. What do I do about that?”

Tony nods slowly, twirling the folded cane in his hands. “You learn to live with it.”

“How do I do that? My therapist tries to get me to forget what I did, to push it away. He thinks I don’t understand that I was forced into doing what I did. But… seventy years, Tony. Seventy years of killing, assassinations. I can’t just forget it.”

“Don’t forget it.” Tony says. “I don’t forget anyone that I’ve killed, whether or not I know their names or faces. I live every moment remembering that people died because of me, James, innocent people. I was called the Merchant of Death because of how many people my weapons killed and tortured. It’s unfair to them, to their families, that I forget about what I did.”

Bucky’s eyes soften, and he studies Tony’s face carefully. The man is wearing sunglasses now, even though the sky is very cloudy. His beard has been trimmed, but he hasn’t returned to the goatee. His hair is messy, sticking out in all angles and then draping down just below his ears. “So you let the guilt consume you?”

“I didn’t want it to.” Tony murmurs. “That’s why I signed the Accords. I thought knowing that I admitted to my mistakes and learned to follow orders from someone who kept those people in mind would ease the guilt. But look how that turned out.”

Bucky’s lips part in a soft gasp, one not quite audible, and he looks to the ground.

“But you’re different.” Tony continues. “You didn’t have a choice in any of what you did. You already had that higher power who commanded you to do things. You shouldn’t forget what happened at your hands, but don’t you _ever_ feel guilty, James, not when you know that the bastards who made you do all of it didn’t feel a shred of guilt. The weight is not on you to carry.”

Bucky licks his dry lips, and runs a hand through his hair. “I have nightmares about them. They call out to me, telling me that I should have fought harder. That I should have resisted.”

Tony’s jaw clenches, remembering the vision Wanda had made him see back in Sokovia. Steve gripping his arm, telling him that he could have done more. He reaches out with his right arm, searching for Bucky’s thigh, and rests his hand on it. “And you did, when you could. You saved Steve after he nearly drowned, you told me that yourself, just a few days ago. You resisted the mind control… James, you overcame seventy damn years of mind control to save your best friend. That’s something.”

Bucky’s eyes widen slightly, and he exhales slowly. “Yeah. I suppose I did.”

 

* * *

 

When T’Challa walks into the common room one day to speak with Tony, he halts at the doorway, studying the sight before him. Barnes is laying down on the couch across from Tony’s chair, arm behind his head, his legs sprawled out. T’Challa turns to Tony, puzzled, and finds that the man is smiling... he does not seem to be afraid, or panicking. “Stark? Barnes?”

Bucky immediately sits up, dropping his phone to the ground in the process. He picks it up clumsily, heart thundering in his chest. “Your highness.”

The smile drops off Tony’s face. “King T’Challa,” he begins. “I.. Barnes isn’t going to hurt me.”

T’Challa’s gaze snaps back to Bucky, and he raises an eyebrow. Bucky’s eyes are wide, filled with fear. “What are you doing here?”

“I just came to speak to Tony,” Bucky explains. “We just talk. Steve doesn’t know, I swear.”

“How long has this been going for?” T’Challa asks, incredulous.

Bucky gulps. “Just under three months, I think. We just talk, we… I stop by every once in a while, we… I never hurt him, he never hurt me, we just…”

“He keeps me company,” Tony adds. “Never thought I’d say that about James, of all people. But… I think we’ve figured something out. I don’t want to kill him anymore. I don’t think he wants to kill me, either.”

“God, no, of course I don’t.” Bucky rushes to say. “Look, T’Challa, please––don’t get angry. I know I’m not allowed to be here, I know that Steve is going to be angry if he finds out, I know––but I’ve been _coping_ and––”

“I am not angry.” T’Challa interrupts, amusement lining his voice. “I am merely… surprised. Pleasantly surprised, that you two are no longer enemies. I only banned you from speaking with Tony because I feared he you bring him panic and fear, but… if Tony enjoys your company, I can do nothing but encourage it. Though… I am unsure that Rogers will share my views.”

“He’s not going to be happy,” Bucky whispers. “I’m keeping such a big secret from him, I… I was the reason he and Tony fought and now _I’m_ speaking to Tony behind his back, while we… He’s not going to be happy.”

“No,” T’Challa agrees. “He’s not.”

A few moments pass before T’Challa speaks up again. “General Ross has Wakanda on the list of countries he suspects are housing the rogue Avengers.”

“Shit,” Bucky mumbles, his grip on his phone tightening. “What are you going to do?”

“I am… not yet sure.” T’Challa admits.

Tony doesn’t like the tinge of fear he can pick up in T’Challa’s voice.

 

* * *

 

“How is he doing?” Wanda asks one day, stirring her hot chocolate. Bucky is sitting on the bar stool next to her, gulping down his own mug of hot chocolate. “He still refuses to see me. He’s afraid I’ll play with his mind again.”

Bucky nods. “You can’t blame him, not entirely. You’re offering to help _by_ invading his mind. That’s something I would have a hard time agreeing to.”

“I don’t blame him.” Wanda says. “He is a complex man… and I’m glad that you’ve spoken to him. With the team’s renewed problems with Ross lately, the anger with Tony seems to have sparked again. They think that Tony is working with the registration in secret, that he has spies on us. Bucky, they need to know. But we can’t betray Tony and T’Challa’s trust. We’ve been keeping this for months now. We should speak to them, ask them to agree to reveal the truth.”

Bucky heaves a sigh. “Secrets. I hate secrets. They just cause more problems.”

“Secrets about what?”

Bucky stiffens at the sound of Steve’s voice, and Wanda sets her mug down. They exchange a quick glance before turning to look at Steve. “Steve, hey,” Bucky greets nervously.

“I just heard the last few words. Did I miss out on something?”

Wanda inhales sharply, and keeps quiet. Bucky’s eyes find Steve’s, and he shakes his head, unsure of what to say. “No, nothing like that.”

Clint joins Steve, hands shoved in the pockets of his pants. “Hey, guys. What’s up?”

Steve’s eyes are narrowed. “I just got word that Ross took Rhodes in for questioning. He’s keeping him imprisoned in the raft.”

Bucky and Wanda exchange a glance again. This is not good.

“What the Hell?” Clint prompts. “And Tony just let them take him? What the fuck is he doing?”

“He’s probably occupied with other things,” Bucky says. This is what they feared; The team will continue to blame Tony until they know the truth.

Clint snorts. “Oh, like what? Like keeping the Avengers who signed safe from the Accords? Apparently he’s not even doing _that_ , if they took Rhodes in. Why is he being such a bitch for Ross? This man always spoke up against everyone and now he’s keeping his mouth shut? He’s willing to see us all rot in hell for his own freedom?”

Steve nods, anger fuming in his eyes. “It’s just unacceptable. Wherever he is, he needs to stop. Someone needs to speak to him, knock some sense back into him.”

“I’d be willing to do that literally,” Clint grumbles, taking a seat onto a bar stool.

“Stark isn’t selling anyone out,” Bucky protests, before he can stop himself. “He’s… He…”

Wanda’s eyes snap to Bucky, widened, warning. He can’t just tell Steve, not when Tony and T’Challa hadn’t given them the permission to speak up.

Bucky furrows his eyes, and gulps down the remainder of his hot chocolate. “You can’t blame Tony for something you’re not sure he did.”

“Then who did it, huh?” Clint inquires. “Who else?”

 _Don’t push us,_ Wanda silently begs. _Don’t push us into telling you the truth._

“Not him.” Bucky insists. He turns back to Steve, whose jaw clenched. “Tony didn’t do this, you can’t blame him unless you have _proof_.”

“Tony? Since when did you start calling him that?” Clint asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Bucky, what is this about?” Steve asks, his voice dangerously low. “We have no reason to believe he’s doing _anything_ good. They took Rhodes in, Bucky. _Rhodes_.”

“And Tony will be devastated to hear that,” Bucky answers, ignoring Clint’s snide remark. “He had nothing to do with it. He never knew that Ross was going to lock you up in the raft, in a place that wasn’t specified in the Accords. Stop… blaming him for everything.”

Wanda gulps, tapping her fingers anxiously on the countertop. “What he means… is that we never got to hear all of Stark’s perspective, or his alternative options.”

“Wait, where the Hell is this coming from? Why, did you hear about his alternative options? All I knew is he wanted to give his ass to the Accords, refusing to listen to Steve or care for _your_ safety, Barnes.”

“He cared for my safety.” Bucky grinds out, his fist clenching. “He didn’t want to hand me over to Ross. He wanted to put me with the ATCU, a government facility. A man named Phil Coulson secretly controls that. But you––but you didn’t let him offer that, Steve.”

Clint and Steve are quiet, studying Bucky carefully. Then Steve asks, slowly, “how do you know all of this?”

Wanda gasps softly, her eyes trained on Bucky. _Don’t give in, Barnes. T’Challa and Stark haven’t given us the permission to speak up yet. Hold it together until this is over, then we can speak to them. Please._

Bucky takes a deep breath, his eyes meeting Wanda’s. They’re apologetic.

 _Barnes, no_ –– Wanda silently prays, before:

“He’s here,” Bucky blurts. He has to do this. Tony deserves to speak with the team, to explain his side and his points of view. He was not the the mad man a lot of them had made him out to be, and Bucky had learned that for himself. If they want to fight Ross, they need to do it together––with Tony.

“Here,” Steve repeats, confusion lining his features. “Here?”

“In Wakanda.” Bucky reveals, then lets out a shaky breath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope the Bucky & Tony friendship wasn't too... sudden. I tried to emphasize that this went on for a while, and that they had meetings in between that I didn't actually show the reader :o
> 
> And at the very end.. I hope you're not angry at Bucky! I personally feel like he did the right thing because Ross is in the picture now and keeping secrets will do more harm than good... but should he have told Tony anyway? Oh well :o


	9. Civil Arguments

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IMPORTANT: Last scene in previous chapter was re-written!! Please reread before proceeding with this chapter :)
> 
> ––––
> 
> Civil War woulda been resolved if they just talked, don't you agree?
> 
> Lots of talking, discussing and arguing in this chapter. This is a tony-centric fic, so you may find more jabs at Steve, but I tried not to be too against him ; u ;

“Tony’s here,” Bucky blurts.

“Here,” Steve repeats, confusion lining his features. “Here?”

“In Wakanda.” Bucky reveals, then lets out a shaky breath.

The room goes silent. Steve’s eyes are wide, trained on Bucky, filled with disbelief. Clint furrows his eyebrows, gaze flickering between Wanda and Bucky, before he chuckles and says, “This is a joke, right?”

Wanda inhales deeply, closing her eyes as she does so. When she opens her eyes again, she simply shakes her head slowly. Barnes did it, he told Rogers. To try and counter his revelation would only cause more confusion and problems, so Wanda takes a few more deep breaths before admitting: “No, it’s not. Stark’s been in Wakanda for months.”

Steve’s hands tighten into fists at his sides, and his jaw clenches. His eyes meet Bucky’s, betrayed ones against apologetic. “How?” He grounds out. “How is he here? Why––why didn’t anyone––how long have you known––when did you––”

“What the fuck, man?” Clint exclaims, smacking his hand down on the countertop. “What do you mean Stark’s been here for months? That fucker has been hiding _between_ us? He’s been–-He’s been spying on us and you didn’t think you should _speak up_?”

Bucky’s eyes harden, and he stands up. “For God’s sake,” he hisses. “Will you shut the fuck up?”

Clint pauses, taken aback by the larger man now towering over him. Before he can speak up again, however, Wanda intrudes. “Stark wasn’t spying on anyone. He is being kept––”

“Not spying on anyone _my ass_. How the Hell did Ross put Wakanda on the list of suspected countries, then? You think it’s a mere fucking coincidence?”

Bucky’s eyes sting. He forces himself to exhale shakily, then inhale even more so. This is not––This is not what he wanted. How did Clint jump to the conclusion that Tony was spying on them? That’s not what Bucky was aiming for… He’d thought that once they knew Tony was in Wakanda, then they would understand that he hadn’t been involved in _anything_ going on with the Accords.

His eyes travel to Steve. The blonde man is quiet, his gaze deadly as he stares at the ground. The vessels in his arms are bulging from the stress, and his cheeks are flushed. When his eyes meet Bucky’s, there’s nothing kind in them. “How long have you known?”

Bucky heaves a sigh, his shoulders drooping. “Around three months.”

Something in Steve snaps.

Three months. Three months during which Bucky’s been working with T’Challa on the cyro chamber, during which Bucky refused to have a new bionic arm installed, during which he _healed_.

Three months during which Bucky’s known about Tony’s whereabouts and has kept quiet.

Steve can’t quiet wrap his head around the fact. He’d given _everything_ up for Bucky––Hell, he’d lost Tony!––and––and Bucky keeps a secret from him? _This_ secret? “You… You didn’t speak to him, right? Bucky, you didn’t get near him. _Right_? He might hurt you, he might––he  might still be angry, he might…”

His first instinct is to worry about Bucky’s safety, despite his building anger.

“Steve,” Bucky interjects, pressing on the name. “Steve, can you… can you stop treating me like this, for _once_?” He appreciates the concern. Steve is a friend that he doesn’t deserve. But he can’t handle being treated so delicately. “He’s not going to hurt me. I spoke to him, multiple times. I visit him a lot. T’Challa knows, Wanda knows, Bruce knows. He’s not angry, he’s _afraid_. He was afraid of me, and now––”

“Are you listening to yourself?” Clint snaps. “If I recall correctly, didn’t he blow your arm off?”

“And didn’t I play with his mind and push him to create Ultron?” Wanda retorts. “Didn’t I unleash the Hulk onto hundreds of innocent people? Didn’t Steve leave him in Siberia, blinded, helpless––”

“Blinded?” Steve prompts.

“––without his suit, without a way to get out? Didn’t vision hit Rhodey? I am tired of this,” Wanda snarls. “This is why we couldn’t tell you. We put it behind us, all of it. Our mistakes, our anger, our pain. Stark did, too. And you still want to live in that shit world of yours where you want to blame everyone for your mistakes––”

“I’m sorry, _what_ now?––” Begins Clint.

But Wanda pushes on, a tinge of red glowing in her irises. “No one forced us to work with Steve! I knew I was an illegal, I knew I would be opposing the law. I blamed Stark for being imprisoned, but it wasn’t on him.”

“Then who was it on, huh? Who––”

“You! It was on you, and me, and Scott, and Sam… It was on us. You left your family knowing you would be going against the law. What did we expect? That because we’re heroes, we would be excused? The Accords were made to put us under a reality check, to remind us that just because we call ourselves heroes, that we should not be above everyone else.”

Steve’s nostrils flare, but he doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t _know_ what to say.

“You had every right to be skeptical of Ross, Steve.” Bucky adds. “But you let that stop you from negotiating, from listening to Tony’s own skepticism.”

“And what was that?” They turn to the doorway, where Sam Wilson is now standing, arms crossed. He steps into the room, letting his arms fall to his sides. “What was Tony’s skepticism?”

“He knew Ross couldn’t be trusted. But he couldn’t ignore 117 nations,” Bucky explains, more calmly now. Sam doesn’t look angry, only curious. “Sam, that’s a lot of countries. If you want to be heroes, you need to have people’s trust, not their fear.”

Steve doesn’t miss that Bucky didn’t include himself in the talk of heroes.

Wanda nods, also calming down, and says, “people saw what I did, and they feared me. I was evil, Steve… No, don’t shake your head, I _was_. I worked with Ultron, I served him. I believed tearing down the Avengers would be the right thing. And I.. I am a hypocrite if I say I don’t need to be held under check.”

“And how’s that?” Clint questions.

“I was one of those people who hated you, who feared you. I hated Stark because of his missiles––and what were his missiles? They were from military troops who thought they were saving my country by bombing us even more.” Wanda answers. “And us walking around, fighting wars we have no permission to fight, is like us being those missiles killing innocent people because they are participating in a bigger war. I don’t want to be that.”

Sam nods. Bucky is not surprised that the man seems to be more accepting of their speech than either of Steve and Clint. “But us getting controlled by someone like Ross… we’re only going to be missiles put in the wrong hands, Wanda.”

“Tony wanted to negotiate the Accords,” Bucky informs him. “He holds a number of things against Ross, criminal records that can send him straight to Hell. But he couldn’t do that before you all signed, or it would be considered an attack on the Accords and thus the nations proposing it.”

“Does the name Phil Coulson ring a bell?” Wanda asks, despite knowing that it does. “He’s working with the president and with General Talbot of the ATCU. Tony only found out about him immediately before he set out to the airport––he got a call from Talbot. They promised no one would harm those enlisted if they worked with them.”

“They sure as hell didn’t step in when we got imprisoned.” Clint points out. “Neither did Stark.”

“Tony didn’t know about the raft, it wasn’t written into the Accords.” Bucky notes. “That’s one of the things he can use against Ross.”

A knock sounds on the already opened door.

Natasha.

Her hair is cropped short, into a pixie cut. Her face is a little rugged, sporting bruises and cuts all over. Her frame is smaller… it appears she’s lost some weight. When all eyes fall on her, she smiles weakly. “Am I interrupting something?”

Clint’s eyes narrow for a moment, taking in her figure, then he smiles back. Steve’s eyes widen, and he hurries to her side, gripping her shoulders with his hands. “Nat. Are you okay? Where have you been?”

She squeezes his wrist lightly, and her smile does not falter. “Been better. I was back in Russia for a while… only place I can really lay low for a while. But then I heard that Ross put Wakanda on the list of suspected counties, and I… I knew T’Challa would have brought you in. All of you. I just arrived this morning.”

Steve gives her a brief hug, shocked still but relieved. She walks over to where the rest of them are gathered, and Clint gives her a tighter hug. “Welcome back, sister,” he greets.

Natasha takes a seat on a barstool, and grabs Wanda’s abandoned mug of hot chocolate, gulping it down. She’d spoken to T’Challa just earlier, who filled her in on everything before he’d given her a chance to go grab a shower and some fresh food… but when he told her that the team would be gathered for lunch soon, she’d decided to see them first. “Hm. It’s cold. But it’s good.”

Wanda nods, raising an eyebrow.

They all remain in silence for a while, studying Natasha as she reaches for a bite of the cheesy naan dip down the countertop. Once she finishes her bite, she says, “Look, Tony isn’t lying.”

The softness in Clint and Steve’s eyes disappears a little. Natasha continues. “I missed your conversation, but I did catch something with General Talbot. Tony wasn’t lying about that, Coulson’s alive. The president does support him. General Talbot has been a representative in many UN gatherings, and our plan was to replace Ross with him. But we couldn’t ask for that replacement before we signed.”

“But you let me and Bucky go.” Steve says.

“I did.” Natasha confirms. “I didn’t do it because I agreed with you, though. I did it because our fighting was only making it worse. You had to go finish your mission, then we would speak. But you and Tony, you were so stubborn. Your egos were leading the battle, not your brains.”

Steve grits his teeth.

“And Tony did let go of his ego.” She turns to Sam. “Didn’t he, Sam? Didn’t he come, asking to go help Steve and James?”

Sam nods. “But he ended up turning on them––”

“He didn’t,” Bucky interjects, his voice barely above a whisper. “He was betrayed. Steve kept a big secret from him, and he had every right to be angry––”

“Is that what he told you?” Steve asks heatedly. “Is that what he told you to stop you from blaming him?”

“No!” Bucky snaps. “No, he apologized for it. He apologized for losing control, for being angry, but Steve, you––you lost control when he attacked me. Why was _that_ outburst okay but not his?”

“It’s not the same.”

“We left him blinded.”

Natasha raises an eyebrow. “Blinded? T’Challa did tell me that he brought Tony in, but didn’t give me any details. What happened?”

“We fought. We left him there, his suit down… and he told us he couldn’t see.”

“Bucky, we couldn’t have known how permanent it was––”

“He was there for three days before T’Challa brought him back. His last seeing memory of us was the fight… was Steve plunging the shield into the suit’s reactor.” He shudders. “Was him blowing my arm off. He hates himself for it.”

“It’s permanent,” Wanda supplies. “Bruce said it’s not damage to his eyes, it’s damage to his brain. The tissue in his occipital lobe is dead. They’re researching for a cure, but they’re not very hopeful.”

Clint exhales slowly, and crosses his arms. “Shit, man.” Tony was… blind? For good? A pang of guilt stabs at Clint’s gut. “So what does he do now? Where is he?”

“He’s.…” Bucky says. “He’s learning to use his other senses more now. He knows if it’s me approaching, because he says my footsteps and my breathing are very heavy…. He’s learning how to use a cane, and how to read braille.” He grimaces. “But he has a lot of off days.”

Natasha’s eyes soften. “Must be hard.”

“I need to see him.” Steve rasps. “I need to speak to him.”

Wanda draws in a sharp breath. “Steve, last we know, Tony had asked that you don’t hear about his presence here. I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

Steve shakes his head. “No, Wanda, I _need_ to speak to him.”

“T’Challa’s just afraid that––”

“I _won’t hurt him_.” Steve insists. “I just want to see him, please. Take me there, Buck. Come on, let’s go.” He rushes to the door, and Sam trails behind him. Wanda and Natasha stand up.

“He’s going to need a heads-up,” Bucky argues, following Steve out the door now.

Steve halts, and his hard gaze meets Bucky’s. “I need to speak him, Buck. Now. You’ve kept this from me for three months––you owe me this much.”

Wanda frowns when Bucky’s shoulders drop in defeat, and he leads the way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> btw, General Talbot is from Agents of SHIELD, and he's another public face for the Accords!! :)
> 
> and Nat! Yay or Nay?


	10. Conflict

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time for Tony and Steve to meet! Enjoy x

 

“Steve,” Bucky pleads, pausing in his tracks once again. “Tony needs to know you’re coming, we can’t just barge in on him. Let’s wait for T’Challa, yeah? Or Bruce. Look, Tony hasn’t even met _Rhodes_ since he’s been here, and I… It’s bad enough that I told you, and now I’m bringing you to him––”

Steve’s cheeks heat up. “Why are you talking like this? You’re acting like I’m going to hurt him, and Buck, I _won’t_ … I just need to _tell_ him,”

“And what does he need?” Sam pipes up. “I imagine there’s a lot he wants to say to you, too, but Barnes is right. Maybe we shouldn’t just barge in like this.”

“Then just let me go in,” Steve requests. “Me and Bucky. We don’t have to all barge in at once. But––God, Tony is here, has been here this whole time… and he’s hurt, and we’ve been accusing him of working with Ross, and we just…”

“We were wrong,” Clint concludes, cursing softly under his breath. “We were wrong about him, and God, I was a dick, I jumped to the worst conclusions––”

Bucky’s jaw clenches, and he steps closer to Clint. “This is why you can’t speak to him, any of you. So you what, change your mind because you know he’s blind now? You’re not sorry, you’re pitying. That’s not the same, Steve. And you,” he pins Clint down with his gaze, “and you were angry with him and throwing insults until you heard he was blind. Why does his loss of vision change everything? You suddenly forgive him? You suddenly realize that your outlook was wrong?”

Clint looks to the ground, nose crunching. “It’s different. I didn’t realize he was hurt so badly. If he’s here to heal, I was wrong to assume that he was here to spy––”

Bucky stares at him silently for a few moments, speechless, before he asks: “And not because he was your friend? You didn’t trust that he wouldn’t spy on you and sell you out until you found out he would physically not be able to? I––I’m so glad I spoke to him. It’s sad, to hear how speaks about you versus how you speak about him, all of you.”

Steve has the decency to look ashamed, nodding when Bucky looks at him, but Clint feels offended. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“He speaks about you like you were his family,” Bucky explains, a tinge of sadness lacing his voice. “Like you’re still his family. He’s always apologizing, always guilty and worrying about you, and your families, and your futures. I couldn’t understand why he blamed himself so much, but now I see why.”

Everyone looks at him expectantly.

“Because you all refuse to take the blame,” Bucky says sharply. “You’re always putting it on him––I hear it myself from you, all the time. Ultron was his fault, but you never mention that he created Vision. The Accords were his fault, despite the fact that he only signed it and played no role in creating it. The raft was his fault, despite him not knowing about it. Ross putting Wakanda on his list is his fault, despite him being stranded here, blinded. You never mentioned that he gave you a home, or that he built you weapons and suits and armours. Neither did you mention that he struggled from severe depression, from PTSD, from existential anxiety, from insomnia.”

“We didn’t––” Steve begins to argue.

“We did,” Natasha interrupts. “Of course we knew. We all fell for his bravado at first, sure. I wrote a report analyzing the persona he _wanted_ me to see, and then… he was dying the entire time. He kept dying after––Pepper mentioned that the wormhole gave him severe nightmares, that he was losing track of reality…”

“But… I didn’t,” Steve insists, honestly. Guilt threatens to force bile up his throat. Had the symptoms been there? Had he simply failed to notice them?

_He’s my friend._

_So was I._

Tony’s words continue to echo in Steve’s ears, driving a dagger through his heart with each time. So _was_ I. Had he said that because he believed Steve no longer wanted to be his friend, or did he say it because _he_ no longer wanted to be Steve’s friend?

He inhales sharply, and continues, “I didn’t notice. But I should have. Tony was my friend, and I always expected the best of him. I…”

“He won’t trust you again,” Wanda supplies (un)helpfully. “You realize that? I have been supporting him from far for months, but he’s too afraid to see me. It’s going to be hard for him to trust you again. Especially with his… condition, and his last visual memories of you. I don’t think you should go to see him just yet.”

Bucky nods. “Please. I––I can’t be another person who betrays his trust. He’s found as much comfort in me as _I_ have in him. I never wanted to keep a secret from you, Steve, but you have to understand why I did. You care for my wellbeing, right? Well… Well, he really helped me cope.”

“Seems like he’s shared a lot with you.” Sam notes. “I’m a little surprised, if I’m being completely honest here. You’re all secretive with your emotions, but you tattle to Stark?”

Bucky’s gaze hardens a little. “What you said to him on the raft,” he says, “about how he never admits to his mistakes. ‘ _That’s a first’_. It still kills him. Because was that not what he wanted with the Accords? Did he not repeatedly apologize for Ultron and say it was his fault? God, you guys are…” Deep breath. “You’re great people, but with Tony, you’re just…”

“Dicks,” Natasha completes. “I know. He––he makes it hard, at times. He’s not usually as… vulnerable as he may have been with you, given his especial frailty with his new disability. You’re lucky you got this Tony, the one who’s so open about his thoughts and feelings and tells you exactly what comes to mind. The Tony we lived with––he always felt the need to put up a mask, he was hard to read at times.”

Sam, Steve and Clint nod in agreeing.

Bucky, however, furrows his eyebrows. “Then why did he? Feel the need to put a mask, I mean? Was it because he knew you wouldn’t accept him, maybe?”

“Hey, no, don’t go there,” Clint begins.

“I’m not… accusing. I’m curious.” Bucky says, putting up a hand. “Steve, you’re––you’re the greatest friend. I owe you more than the universe itself. But sometimes… you want me to be the Bucky from Brooklyn, the friend you had in the 40s. And I’m not him, not anymore, but God, I can’t let you down.”

Steve’s eyes widen slightly, stinging.

“You’re saying you put up a mask even in front of Steve?” Clint questions, crossing his arms.

Bucky only looks to the floor, does not answer.

Steve gulps slowly, fighting back the building ball of guilt at the back of his throat. He cared for Bucky, he was… protective of him. But Bucky’s right; He wants his old friend, wants the man he grew up with… and when he tries to support Bucky _now_ , he does so by prompting his friend to recall their days in Brooklyn, or to relive the same moments.

It’s a flaw of his.

Perhaps he’d noticed Tony’s symptoms, but what did he do to help? Nothing. Steve tries to be supportive, and it always comes out _wrong_. He wants to help Bucky, he wants his friend to be safe, and he… somehow ends up erasing his friend’s struggles?

And that’s no way to cope, he realizes. Asking Bucky to forget his pain, or to attempt to be a person he can never be once again… that must have only caused Bucky to feel more pressured.

It makes sense, then, that Bucky would get along with Tony. Natasha may only be partially right; Tony is more vulnerable, of course he is.. But he shares many experiences and feelings with Bucky… Thus, he’s able to speak about his mistakes, helps Buck learn to live with them.

Steve feels shame creeping up his cheeks, and anger surging through his veins. Anger at himself, for being so oblivious––or perhaps for choosing to be so oblivious.

For being so selfish.

He wanted Bucky to heal… _his_ way. Even when Bucky chose Cyro, Steve tried really hard to oppose it, because it would mean losing Bucky _again_ … but it was the man’s choice, and Steve should not stand against his friend’s only wishes.

He wanted Tony to fight… also _his_ way. Tony was no soldier, but Steve always expected him to fight like one during battle; Fall into formation, await orders, do not act on your own will… And he always got angry with Tony, angry that the man would not do things his way.

“I’m sorry,” he says sincerely. “Buck––I’m sorry. I just… don’t want to lose you. I didn’t want to lose the team when the Accords came along and I _know_ , trust me, I know now, that what I did only caused more problems.”

Bucky clasps a hand on Steve’s shoulder.

“Can I… please, can I speak to Tony? If he panics, I’ll leave. I’ll leave right away. Just… He’s _here_ , Buck, he’s been here for months, and he’s petrified of me.” The thought causes Steve’s stomach to churn. “Just give me this shot.”

Bucky exchanges a glance with Wanda. She studies Steve carefully, trying her best not to delve too deep into his mind, and exhales slowly. She nods.

 

* * *

 

“It’s to your left, Boss,” FRIDAY tells Tony. Tony takes turns to the left, then takes a step forward, reaching around with the cane. Once it comes into contact with the book, Tony crouches to pick it up, then runs his hand over the smooth surface.

He’d thrown it across the room earlier, tired of having to learn to read with braille. It was much harder to imagine the setting he was reading when he first needed to imagine how the letters looked to form the words. He… tries his best, to come to terms with his new disability. Often he tries not to let it get to him; He won’t quit.

But some days, he can’t stay strong. He can’t keep pretending he’s fine, or that he’s not hurt by his condition, that he’s not struggling… because he is. It’s hard, it’s so damn hard, and without Pepper or Rhodey by his side… without Jarvis… It was only harder.

 _Do this for them_ , he continues to remind himself. _Do it for them, they don’t need you as a burden in their lives. Not anymore than you already were._

He exhales slowly, opening the book and running his thumb over the pages as they flip.

A knock sounds on the door, and Tony stills. Three more knocks sound afterwards, in the specific pattern Bucky had created, and Tony relaxes, calling out, “James, come in.”

He can hear Bucky walk in, noting that his steps are slower than usual, and his breathing is heavier. There’s shuffling of fabric, and Tony can imagine the man has shoved his hands into his pockets. When Bucky remains silent for a few moments, clearing his throat awkwardly, Tony asks, “Hey, is everything okay? Did anyone hurt you? Did they say something?”

He reaches out with his cane again, holding the book in the crook of his elbow, and steps closer to where Bucky stands at the doorway. His face feels naked without the shades, and he knows that concern must be evident on his features right now.

Bucky gulps, rather loudly, and says, “No, nothing like that. Well, I… Tony, I need to, uh, tell you something. Maybe you can sit down? Do you… do you need a glass of water? I––”

“James, you’re rambling.” Tony comments, stepping even closer to Bucky, and reaching out with his hand until it finds the other man’s arm. “What’s going on?”

Bucky tilts his head to the right, glancing at Steve, who’s standing a few feet behind him, from the corner of his eyes. What is he supposed to say? _Oh, hi, Tony. I brought Steve right to your hideout, after you specifically asked me not to._

Steve has stilled, frozen in his place. Tony Stark is standing a few feet from him, oblivious to his presence. His eyes are settled on an area around Bucky’s face––and he’s pretty close––and Steve could have been fooled at first. Only after a few moments does he see that Tony’s eyes are not quite seeing anything, that they’re blankly staring at the same spot, not meeting Bucky’s eyes.

 _Steve? I can't see_.

And Steve had just walked away.

He’s lost quite a bit of weight, and his cheekbones stand out a little more than Steve remembers. His jaw is covered with a trimmed beard, just longer than a stubble, and it feels off––Where’s his signature goatee? His signature snarky smile?

Tony’s face is only lined with concern, exhaustion. Steve tries not to dwell on how Tony casually squeezed Bucky’s arm, or how he immediately realized that something was off with Bucky without even _seeing_ him. Or that Bucky had a specific knocking pattern to let Tony know it was him.

He exhales slowly, licking his dry lips, and looks at the ground. He doesn’t want to interfere with whatever Bucky plans to say. He’ll keep quiet, he’ll stay close to the wall, and he’ll wait until he’s introduced.

“James?” Tony presses.

Bucky’s eyes snap back to Tony, and he forces a small smile, more for himself. “I.. Wanda and I spoke with Steve and Clint today. You remember what we heard about what Ross did?”

Tony nods, frowning. “Did he do anything else?”

“Kind of,” Bucky leads Tony into the room, taking a seat at the bed. Tony sits next to him. “Clint thought you were giving Ross intel, that somehow you were getting news about us here and you sold us out. He… especially thought that after hearing that they… took Rhodes in, and you hadn’t done anything about it.”

Tony’s breath catches in his throat, and he pales. “Ross has Rhodey?” He asks in a small voice.

“I’m sorry,” Bucky rasps. “But… Clint and Steve were throwing things around, thinking you were hiding somewhere under Ross’s protection and selling everyone out––” _And I had to tell the truth_ , he wants to continue, but Tony interrupts him.

“That’s _insane_!” Tony exclaims, his grip tightening around the cane. “Why would they––why––”

Bucky places a hand on Tony’s thigh, forcing himself to take deep breaths, to remain calm as he watches Tony crumble. “Tony, they'd heard nothing about you since our fight in Siberia, they didn't  _know_ where you are, or what you've been dealing with. They couldn’t have known––”

Tony laughs, and Bucky startles, pausing his speech. Steve stands up straighter, peeking closer into the room.

“Of course.” Tony says, chuckling. His laugh is on the edge of hysteria. “Of course they’d jump to that conclusion.”

“What else––”

“You know, after I went out to _help_ you and Rogers behind Ross’s back, after I failed to bring you in,” he shakes his head bemusedly, sadly, “you think Ross would let me go? After the Avengers were broken out of their prisons? He’d have thrown me right into one of those cells. They think––they think I’d have sold out Rhodey? Or sold any of you out if I found out you were under T’Challa’s protection?” His chuckles turn into soft sobs. “I… God, I didn’t realize…. they thought _that_ badly of me, I… Am I such a bad person? Was I such a bad fucking friend?”

Bucky’s heart thuds against his chest, and before he can think about it, he finds himself pulling Tony into a tight, one-armed embrace. Tony doesn’t protest, only lets out more sobs, clutches tightly to Bucky’s arm.

Before Bucky can speak up, can explain that he’d only mentioned this information so he can explain _why_ he’d needed to tell Steve and Clint the truth, a third voice sounds.

“No, no,” Steve murmurs, hastily walking into the room. “No, Tony, you were––you were a great friend, you gave us so much, but we––but we had our differences, and with everything that was going on, we just––”

Tony pulls away from Bucky, and retreats in the bed until his back is against the headrest. His eyes are wide, frantically spanning the room now, and his lips are pressed thin. The book falls out from his arm, clashing against the floor once again.

He wants to speak, wants to ask _what in the Hell_ Steve is doing here, but his lip can only tremble. He can feel Bucky’s hand on his leg, on his shoulder, squeezing and comforting... but he can only flinch at the touch.

He’d told Rogers about his location. He’d _brought_ him to Tony, without asking, without a warning––

“Steve, what the _hell_ are you doing?” Bucky howls angrily. “I asked you to stay out and wait––”

“You brought him here,” Tony says shakily, his lips still trembling. “You––I asked you not to––You brought him––I didn’t–”

Bucky feels his eyes stinging, and he stands up, his breathing growing laboured. Tony is _angry_ with him, Steve didn’t give him the time to explain anything… God, _God_ …. He turns to Steve, baring his teeth, clenching his fist. “You––you promised me you would only speak up if I told you to––if I found that you should, you _promised_ me, I didn’t––”

Tony throws his cane to the ground as well, then, and furrows his brow in anger. “So what, you agree with them? You think I’m here to spy on all of you? What, you think I’m faking this?” He gestures vaguely to his eyes, then pushes himself up, nearly toppling over before finding his balance, and steps forward. “You think I’m pretending to be blind? You think I’m, what, hiding in Wakanda for months and sending Ross riddles about your locations? Oh, maybe T’Challa works with Ross, too, maybe you’re all actually imprisoned here?”

His voice is growing loud, frantic. His hands are shaking. He takes another step forward, nearly bumping into Bucky, then another. Suddenly, he can’t seem to remember the layout of the room, or what direction he’s headed to. He’s walking in _nothing_ , he’s living in _nothing_. A few more steps forward, and his knee hits the wooden chair, sending him down. He clings to the chair’s arm, one knee on the ground.

“Is that who Tony is?” He shouts. “You said you wanted to know me for yourself. And you––and you just… you just believed them. I thought _you_ would listen, that you would understand, and you _didn’t_ , of course you didn’t, no one in my life understands, how can you understand? I’m messed up, I’m screwed, I’m––”

Bucky feels tears brimming in his eyes, and he wipes at them quickly, refusing to collapse. “Tony, no, please, just––hear me out? This isn’t what you think, please, that’s not true, none of it––”

Steve runs his hands through his hair, and watches the scene unfold.

Shit.

 _Shit_.

He hadn’t been able to control himself at the moment, not when Tony broke out in sobs, like he’d never seen him do before. Not when he looked so weak, so hurt, so… betrayed. He just––

God damn it, Rogers. He’d already lost a friend.

 _Now I’ve lost both,_ he thinks, licking his lips again. He looks at Bucky, who’s desperately trying to get Tony to listen to him, and Tony, who’s shaking and rambling and clinging to a wooden armchair.

Somehow, Steve feels that regardless of what he does, he can only make this worse.

So he inhales slowly, and cautiously steps closer to the two men. He clears his throat before saying, in an unsteady voice, “Tony? Bucky didn’t… he didn’t say any of that. He told us we were wrong, but to do that, he had to tell us the truth about you being here.”

“He sold me out––” Tony spits bitterly.

“He didn’t,” Steve argues, attempting to keep his voice as kind as he can, to not allow his fear to take over. “Tony, he didn’t, if he hadn’t told us, we would have continued to make other inaccurate assumptions, and that’s _our_ fault, Tony, that’s what I’m here to apologize for––”

Steve’s voice, it _hurts_.

It hurts, because all Tony can see is Steve eyeing him curtly, is Steve throwing punches and kicks at him, is Steve delving his shield deep into the suit’s reactor… is Steve keeping secrets, after berating Tony for doing that. Steve’s eyes holding no friendliness, only anger and desperation.

Tony wants it to go away, wants them _all_ to go away. The darkness is better than those memories, it’s more peaceful. He just wants to stay in the darkness, doesn’t want to see the light if it means he will only see those memories of Steve.

“Get out,” he rasps. “Get out!”

Bucky stands still, staring blankly at Tony.

“ _Get out!_ ” Tony repeats feverishly.

Steve stumbles back, then places a hand on Bucky’s armless shoulder, encouraging him to leave the room as well. Bucky hesitates, his eyes glued to Tony’s form for a few more moments, before he grits his teeth and stammers out of the room, moving ahead of Steve.

As soon as Steve exits the room behind him, and shuts the door... he gets a **punch** to the face. He staggers backwards, hand immediately going up to his injured nose, and he closes his eyes, exhaling shortly through the pain. He can’t look at Bucky––he knows how angry his friend must be. He’d become friends with Tony, had built an unlikely bond over the course of a few months… he’d coped…

“I’m sorry,” Steve whispers. “I’m so sorry. But he’ll know––He’ll understand––that you didn’t mean any of it, it was all my fault, he’ll know that, I promise.”

Bucky doesn’t respond, only clenches his jaw before he turns around and stomps out of the building, Steve at his feet.

 

* * *

 

When they return to the common room, the atmosphere immediately tenses. The team can tell that something had gone awry.

“How did it go?” Natasha asks slowly.

Bucky walks to the fridge, grabs a can of cold beer, and refuses to speak. Instead, he pops it open and gulps it down quickly.

“It…” Steve says slowly, his face paling. “I made a mistake.”

“What kind of mistake?” Wanda asks pointedly, bringing herself to stand up.

“He decided to show up before I told him to,” Bucky supplies. The already emptied can of beer crumples under his grip. “And now Tony thinks that I betrayed him and that I… that I think he spies on us, and that I…”

“Bucky, I promise, he’ll know the truth––”

“When?” Bucky asks sharply. “When T’Challa and Bruce try to convince him? When he’ll refuse to speak to me again? I’d betrayed his trust by telling you––but I had to––and then I _trusted_ you to speak to him on my signal, and you just––”

“I couldn’t take it, okay? I couldn’t! I couldn’t stand seeing him so fragile, so hurt, and knowing it was all because of _me––_ ”

“So you decided to make it worse!”

Steve flinches.

Natasha places a hand on her hip, and the other on her forehead. She’s washed up now, no longer covered in blood, and her hair is styled better. “Shit.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I admit the meeting was very brief, but they will have many more chances to speak later on... I promise.
> 
> Ahdsjaj Steve though? Little son acknowledges his flaws, which is good, and wants to apologize... but then he gets so distraught and acts hastily again. Hopefully with time he'll learn even more from his mistakes! Honestly writing this, I wasn't in Steve-bashing mode AT ALL. I really wanted to imagine how he'd react, and Steve would still feel guilty, would feel sensitive, and so he jumped to assure Tony... but he forgot about Bucky.


	11. New Decisions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while since I updated :( things got very, very bad at home... and it has been hectic. I wrote this chapter as soon as I could, because I don't want you guys thinking that I've ditched the fic! I haven't, it's just been a bad time lately. 
> 
> Bit of a shorter chapter, but I hope you enjoy xx

“I need to return to the States.”

T’Challa looks up from the tablet in his hands, raising his eyebrows once he spots Tony standing in the doorway. His hands are tightly clutching the cane, knuckles whitened, and his face is pale. He’s not wearing the shades to hide his eyes. Why had he come all the way to T’Challa’s quarters? Tony had not stepped away from the secluded area by the river ever since he’d come, despite T’Challa offering to have someone walk him around the kingdom multiple times.

Immediately, T’Challa gets to his feet. The frantic look in Tony’s eyes, the panic lining his features, cause T’Challa’s heart to race quickly. He’s not sure why, or when exactly, he’d come to care so much for the American hero… but he cannot bear the sight of him looking so hurt and lost.

“Tony?” He prompts, stepping next to Tony, and places a gentle hand on his shoulder. “What is going on? You seem unwell. Come, sit down. Would you like a glass of water?”

He moves to guide Tony into the room––which has a modern look T’Challa feels Tony would have appreciated––but Tony refuses to budge. Instead, he plants himself to the spot, pressing his heels to the ground, and his face scrunches up.

“I need to go back to the USA,” Tony repeats, more firmly this time. He gulps repeatedly, and his breathing grows laboured. “Your highness, _please_.”

T’Challa stands still, eyes narrowing as he studies the man before him. This was not the man he had seen a few days earlier, chattering happily with Barnes and Banner, nor was he the man who had thanked T’Challa for providing him a safe house because “ _The States are too dangerous for me right now_ ” and _“If you’d brought me back to the US, Ross would have thrown me right into the Raft”._

No, this is a man who does not feel safe in Wakanda, and is requesting to return to the country seeking him most––and certainly not for good purpose.

“Tony,” T’Challa repeats, ensuring that his voice remains level. “Why don’t you tell me what happened?”

“Nothing,” Tony answers, a little too abruptly. He gulps again, then runs a hand through his messy hair. “Just… I can’t stay here, not anymore. You’ve been so kind, so good to me, and I knew it was eventually going to come to an end, nothing good ever lasts, and now I have to go back, I gotta see Pepper and Rhodey and face the life that I’ve been hiding from all these months––”

T’Challa’s grip tightens on Tony’s shoulder, pausing his rambling. T’Challa shakes his head, puzzled. “Why has it come to an end? What has changed your decision?”

“Because!” Tony nearly shouts, then he inhales slowly, and brings his voice back down. “Because… the Avengers. They’re… They’re here, and they’re angry with me and Barnes went and––”

“And they have been here for months.” T’Challa notes, furrowing his eyebrows.

“But they didn’t _know_ that I was here. And now they do.” Tony explains. He steps away from T’Challa, allowing the king’s hand to drop to his side, and begins to pace around the room. He taps his surroundings with the cane, but it has become more of a nonchalant process; he does not need to focus all of his attention on the cane, which had been the case just a few months back.

T’Challa pales. “What do you mean?”

“Barnes gave in. He told Rogers.” Tony says bitterly. Then he scoffs. “I don’t know what I was thinking, actually speaking to him and trusting him and thinking we were good _friends_ for a while. I don’t know how I thought he would respect my wishes over Steve’s. Fucking idiot, that’s what I always am.”

T’Challa shuts his eyes, and exhales slowly. His phone vibrates in his pocket, and he ignores it despite himself. He is a king, he has many matters to attend to…

But Barnes had been one of the few people Tony trusted anymore, and gaining that trust had been very hard. Had he really been so foolish as to throw all of that away so easily? Not to mention that he had promised the king––who was giving him refuge––that he would keep his mouth _shut_. So why hadn’t he?

T’Challa crosses his arms, irritation bubbling up in his chest. “Why did he?”

“I don’t even know.” Tony takes a seat on the arm of one of the couches. He huffs, rolls his eyes. “I think he was… convinced that I was spying on them. Said Clint suggested the idea. Next thing I know, Steve walks into the room, and he’s speaking but I can’t hear anything he says. All I could hear and see was,” his hand absently brushes over his chest, where the reactor used to be, “was Siberia.”

Rage sparks within the Wakandan king.

He had helped the Avengers immensely, he had given them more than the could have asked for, he had risked his own name and reputation within the United Nations when he’d secretly brought them in… And they paid him no respect?

Barnes had bought Steve to Tony’s _door_?

They had accused their teammate of spying on them?

He scoffs. _Teammate_. As though they had ever been a team. What team would be built on such tension and lack of communication, lack of trust? What team would be built on teammates pulling up masks in front of each other, never feeling enough comfort to be themselves?

“You can’t return to the USA,” T’Challa says weakly. “Tony, it’s very dangerous. Especially that Ross has Wakanda on his list of suspected countries, if they know you were being kept here.. they will find the others.”

“Then they don’t need to know I was being kept here.” Tony says, pushing himself to stand up again. Though he tries to sound firm, his voice wavers. “I’ll pretend I crawled up to some, I don’t know, shitty cavern in Siberia.”

“And you remained in hiding for months, where you somehow learned to cope and work with your new prominent disability? Tony, they are not stupid. They will know that someone had brought you and had cared for you.”

“I understand,” Tony says. “But I… I want to return to the US, please. Bruce can return with me––he’s already agreed to it, agreed to say that he took me in and cared for me––”

“Bruce has been _hiding_ for longer than any of you now, why would you be willing to put him in such danger? He is being sought by many, especially Ross, or have you forgotten?”

“Then what? I can’t stay here, _Steve_ is here, and he wants to see me, and he––” Tony begins to argue.

But T’Challa interjects. “Stark, I will _not_ let Rogers bring you any harm. He, and his friends, are well respected guests of Wakanda. But they have… let me down several times, and defying my direct orders to keep your presence a secret… I will not let that pass. This goes beyond you––I need to know that they will not work behind my back. It’s bad enough that they want to work behind the governments’ backs, I will not let them do that to mine.”

Tony nods, then wipes the back of his hand across his nose, which is beginning to run. But Barnes? Why had he brought Steve to Tony’s hideout? Why had he… why would he have chosen to bring Steve in against Tony’s clear wishes?

It stings, somewhere near his heart. Tony doesn’t want it to, but it _does_. It does because this happened every goddamn time––he trusts someone, he thinks they’re different, thinks they’ll be loyal to _him_ , only to be reminded that they never are.

 _You’re not such a bad guy_ , James had told him. _You know, if I had seen you guys under better circumstances, I think I’d have loved to be an Avenger. Would you have given me my own floor, too?_

 _Of course,_ Tony had answered. _And I could rebuild you the arm, but I’m not sure you’d let me_.

 _I would let you_. James had said. _Tony, you are the only person, along with T’Challa, that I’d trust to work on my arm. You know that, right? I trust you._

Tony had been at a loss of words. But after a pause, he, too, had said, _Yeah. And oddly, I trust you too, you know that? Be proud, clap clap. Tony Stark, who does not trust anyone, would actually trust in you to watch his back._

God, Stark.

Foolish, as per usual.

 

* * *

 

Bucky stares at his reflection in the cryo chamber. He brings his hand up to the glass, tracing over it lightly.

He inhales sharply, and closes his eyes.

"How soon can I go under?" He asks the doctor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you enjoyed!! xx
> 
> Thank you to everyone who answered the question I had here, I've decided what to do with the fic for now xx


	12. Grateful

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> T'Challa's pov is main in this chapter!! enjoy xx

T’Challa’s jaw clenches, and he forces himself to inhale patiently. Ross’s eyes lock with his, glistening with challenge. T’Challa holds his gaze for a moment too long before turning away. “As I said, I see no validity behind the General’s claims. You have no evidence of me holding any fugitives in my country.”

Ross runs his tongue over his lips, raising an eyebrow, and says, “Not so solid yet, perhaps, but I believe there are a few suspicious activities we may have to investigate.”

“Such as?”

“Such as Virginia Pott’s mysterious visit to Wakanda,” Ross suggests, crossing his arms and leaning over onto the table. “A woman who had never before set foot in the country suddenly stops by for a visit––perhaps to see her long lost man? Just _who_ are you keeping fugitive, King T’Challa?”

T’Challa furrows his eyebrows, and intertwines his fingers. “Virginia Potts is CEO of Stark Industries, General. I was sure you would know that.” Ross makes a face. “After hearing of Wakanda’s advanced technology, Miss Potts paid me a visit to discuss a business deal.”

Ross narrows his eyes, but the challenging smile remains plastered on his face. The man’s expression tugs on T’Challa’s nerves; He was good at feigning confidence, never faltering. “And what about Dr. Helen Cho? Also previously associated with the Avengers, suddenly moving to Wakanda to––”

“General Ross,” another voice pipes up. It’s General Talbot. “You just openly admitted that you have been spying on the king’s country.”

The room stills, and Ross tenses.

“You’re in no position to be tracking the whereabouts of those citizens. They are not directly involved with the Accords, and you have absolutely zero evidence that they’re  currently associated with the missing fugitives. Not to mention, if you had suspected they did, you would have had to discuss it with this council beforehand. You know, project your concerns, ask for input. But you and I? We’re just Generals in the US government; we don’t lead the Accords.”

T’Challa lets out a relaxed sigh, and shoots an appreciative glance at Talbot. The council begins to murmur amongst themselves, raising eyebrows at Ross and speaking with valid concern.

Ross pales, and the smirk finally drops off his face. T’Challa smiles at that. Once the chatter begins to die down, T’Challa clears his throat. “Might I add something?” He asks, and the room falls silent. “With regards to the fugitives… Why are you hunting them down to throw them in jail, as though they are criminals who have harmed our planet. They were heroes, once, and the Accords are meant to simply provide supervision.”

A woman from the council joins the discussion. “The Accords stated that those who don’t sign must retire. If they choose to sign later, then they are welcome to. As of now, Captain America and his team have, technically, retired. Iron Man is missing. If they choose to come back, they should be given the option to sign the Accords, perhaps even discuss modifying them. Throwing them in prison is not the primary option.”

“They rebelled,” Ross snaps, tapping his fingers on the table. “They rebelled and they hid from us. They escaped from prison––”

“A prison they weren’t supposed to be in,” Talbot notes sharply. “The raft? That wasn’t certified by the Accords. You hadn’t even discussed that you had held the fugitives under your custody until they escaped.”

The room erupts with more chatter and time passes, filled with arguments and debates, before security is called in to take Ross to questioning.

 

* * *

 

 _Finally_ , T’Challa returns to Wakanda bearing good news.

He had not yet gotten the chance to speak with Rogers or Barnes, to discuss what they had done with Tony… and he has not forgotten. But before that, he needed to speak with Tony––to tell him that there is now a chance that he will be able to return to his home country without danger.

T’Challa knocks on the door four times, in the pattern he knows Tony will recognize, before stepping into the room. Tony is sitting up on the bed, blindly staring ahead, hands crossed in his lap. He’s still as a statue. “Tony,” T’Challa greets.

Tony’s eyes snap to his general direction, and he gives him a small, nervous smile. “Your highness.”

T’Challa shuts the door behind him, and takes a seat on the armchair next to Tony’s bed. “How are you doing? Better, I hope.”

Tony shrugs, and huffs out a short breath. “Not much that’s changed in the few days you’ve been gone, your Majesty. Just sitting here and remembering. You know when you head to bed and you lie there for a while, reflecting on your life and memories? Somehow that’s become my entire day. It sucks.” He shakes his head softly. “But in better news, Project Spring is coming along. Bruce and Helen are developing it very well.”

T’Challa smiles empathetically, and leans forward in his seat to clasp a hand around Tony’s knee. Tony does not flinch or startle, which pleases the king. “I had, and continue to have, the confidence in you. You are all doing a stellar job with the project––I cannot wait till it’s ready to launch. You will change many people’s lives, Tony.”

Tony smiles sadly, but wholeheartedly. “Thanks, T’Challa.”

“You know,” T’Challa says, pulling his hand away from Tony and crossing his arms as he leans back into the chair. “You know, if you struggle with something, particularly something you cannot fix, you will cope best by helping others avoid it. I cannot understand the extent of your disabilities specifically, but… but I know. I know that when I focused my pain on revenge and anger, I accomplished nothing. However, when I used it as my motivation, my inspiration to help others stray from the path I followed… I felt pleased with myself, I felt at peace. And, Tony, I am proud to see that this is what you’re doing. Project Spring will benefit many people.”

Tony’s smile grows wider this time, and he chuckles. “And just where have you and your wise speeches been my entire life?”

“I wasn’t so wise all my life,” T’Challa admits, grinning. “I used to drive my father mad.”

“You?” Tony asks in disbelief. “No way. Look at you, you’re a goodie two shoes, helping everyone, being kickass, y’know.”

T’Challa throws his head back in laughter. “We all had to learn from mistakes before we came to be who we are now.”

“So you were a little trouble maker. Hard to believe, really.”

“Hard to believe.” T’Challa agrees. Then, he sits up straighter. “And I came by to deliver some news regarding Ross.”

Tony tenses, and T’Challa hurries to add, “They are good news.”

“Oh? That’s a new one. Hit me up.”

“General Talbot and I twisted Ross’s game onto himself, and he was taken in for investigation. There is also the possibility now that you can return to the States, free of Ross… As well as the possibility that the Avengers can return to officially resign or sign the Accords. They may no longer have to stay on the run.”

“That’s… That’s great. And you won’t get in trouble for hiding us this entire time?”

T’Challa exhales slowly. “There may be consequences for it,” he says, “but they are consequences I am willing to deal with, if it means that you will all be free to return to your homes.”

Tony’s eyes soften, and he gives T’Challa a half-smile. “I said this before, and I’ll say it again: I think your father would have been more than proud of you, Tach. You’ve been so kind and caring to all of us, you’ve been––”

“I thought the infamous Tony Stark hated to talk about his feelings,” T’Challa jabs, smiling playfully. “And I appreciate your words, Tony, but you don’t have to thank me. Although, if you call me _Tach_ again, I may have to act differently.”

He had hated to talk about his feelings, once. But now… Well, now Tony was a babbling machine, somehow able to express his feelings and thoughts easily. He theorized it was because he did not have to worry about studying the facial expressions of those he spoke to as they reacted. Somehow, it made it easier.

He scratches at his head. “Why? I think it’s a great nickname.”

T’Challa shakes his head, smiling in amusement.

Then, he asks, “Tony, are you angry with Barnes?”

 

* * *

 

“Your Highness,” Dr. Mandala called out, running up behind the king.

T’Challa slows down, and she falls into step next to him. “Your meeting with the United Nations and the Accords went well, I hope?”

T’Challa nods, noting how her voices holds a shakiness it never does. “Dr. Mandala.” He greets. “It went well, I think. The investigations against Ross have not been completed. Until then, we wait.”

“That’s very good,” she breathes out, gulping.

“I take it the Avengers have heard of the news?”

Dr. Mandala nods. “Yes, your Highness. The news spread fairly quickly across the globe. Captain Rogers said he would like to thank you and General Talbot for what you did.”

T’Challa narrows his eyes. If Steve had anyone else to thank, it would be Tony––after all, he was the one who had spoken with General Talbot, and had arranged the plan to, for lack of a better word, screw Ross over as soon as they could. “I would like to meet him as well. Him and Barnes. Where are they?”

Dr. Mandala breathes out shakily. “They are in their assigned mansion, your Highness.”

T’Challa comes to a halt. “Jana,” he calls by her first name, “is there something else?”

Jana pauses as well, licks her lips. “It’s… Barnes.”

“Barnes?”

“He wants to go under. As soon as possible. He asked to be put in there within the week.”

T’Challa inhales sharply, and shakes his head. “He can’t. He will be safe to return home now.”

“His reasoning is not for me to discuss, your Majesty. Perhaps you can speak to him about it.”

“I will.”

 

* * *

 

When he enters the room with the gathered Avengers, T’Challa does not know which topic to address first; Ross, Barnes or Stark.

Rogers apparently makes the call, because he walks up to T’Challa and says, “King T’Challa, what you did at the Accords––that was incredible. Thank you very much for doing that… I don’t think we can express our gratitude enough.”

T’Challa wants to bite back the response, but he can’t: “I think you’ve made it clear that you don’t care to express your gratitude, Captain.”

Steve raises both eyebrows in surprise, thrown off by the comment. Wanda steps closer to them, her face carefully neutral. Steve glances at her, then asks, “I’m… not sure what you mean, your Highness?”

“You know very well what I mean.” T’Challa begins. He takes a seat at the table, and Wanda follows his lead. Steve chooses to remain standing, still puzzled.

Bucky looks down.

“Why did you tell Rogers?” T’Challa asks. “And why did you take him to Tony? Not only had he trusted you––I had _ordered_ you not to reveal the secret.”

“It wasn’t like that,” Bucky whispers, refusing to meet the king’s eyes. “Wanda and I––we thought we had to speak up, at the time. The team was thinking lowly of Tony, we had to tell them where he was.”

T’Challa keeps his gaze steady on the other man. “And if I understand your decision for doing that, then why did you take Rogers to Tony’s secret hideout without telling him?”

“He wasn’t supposed to walk in when he did.” Bucky argues weakly. “I was going to tell Tony first, but he––”

“But I couldn’t stand what I was hearing,” Steve interjects. “Tony looked so broken, sounded so hurt. His words were ones the Tony I knew would never have said, and I found myself jumping in to reassure him––”

“The Tony you knew?” Natasha wants to scoff. “You still think you knew Tony. After all of this? You wanted to _reassure_ him, Rogers?”

Please.

Steve’s jaw clenches, and his eyes flicker back to the king.

“And if you had wanted to tell him before Rogers entered,” T’Challa continues, “then you would have been doing it behind _my_ back, against _my_ orders.”

Bucky rests his forehead on his palm, his elbow resting on the table. “I’m sorry. I know, I lost whatever trust Tony had developed for me. I wanted to find a balance between Tony’s needs and Steve’s needs, and I––I failed. I know.”

T’Challa does not respond, only raises an eyebrow.

“I want to go back under,” Bucky then says. “Then it wall all be over. Tony and Steve––they won’t have to worry about me. And neither will you, keeping the Winter Soldier fugitive.”

“Bucky, you––” Steve begins.

T’Challa stands up, making his voice loud and clear. “You will not go under cryo. This is not your primary option for now, Barnes.” His gaze is sharp. “You all need to stop hiding from everything. Look, we have found you a way to return to your homes, to your jobs. You can be heroes again. But what heroes actively refuse to face their problems?”

“I’m not a hero,” Bucky argues, looking up at the king now.

“But you can become one.” T’Challa challenges. “You can become one, and you are throwing that option away. Why? You would rather remain frozen in cryo, in the device Hydra used for the Winter Soldier, rather than face your fears and work on becoming a hero?”

Bucky gulps.

“The cure for your trigger words is not a medical injection,” the king continues, “or a magic device that will remove specific memories from your brain. What you need is therapy. You need to learn to hear the words without reacting, without falling back to the Winter Soldier. I think working in a new environment, fighting as a hero and alongside heroes, will help you more than remaining frozen in a chamber.”

Wanda lets out a soft breath, finding that she cannot help but agree with the Wakandan king.

“You are sorry. Why will you not tell that to Stark? Why will you not admit to your mistakes before him?” T’Challa says. “He liked you––He liked chatting with you, he liked when you visited randomly and spoke openly with him. It was a friendship he needed, and a friendship he would like to still have, I think.”

“But you said it yourself, I betrayed his trust––”

“You will only betray his trust more if you leave him now. He never fully trusted that you would keep his secret; he understands that you had a rough choice to make, understands that you would not have done it to harm him.” T’Challa notes. “But he believed that you two were… a working friendship. He liked that you were frank with him, that you admitted to all your mistakes and you always asked for ways to tackle them, tackle the guilt.”

Bucky’s eyes light up, but only a little.

“If you go under cryo, then you are not the man he trusted you were. The man who wanted to change, to become better.”

Steve’s eyes are wide, uncertain, shocked. Wanda’s and Natasha’s are relieved. Barton’s and Scott’s are surprised, amused. Sam’s are happy, and are accompanied with a smile on his lips.

Bucky’s are grateful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What did you guys think? xx


	13. Standing Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back, and this fic is alive! Sorry for the late update, once again.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this chapter! Last chapter was too good to be true for the characters, so they get some news this chapter.

**[A FEW DAYS LATER]**

Bucky inhales slowly, tugging at his shirt to straighten it. He stands in front of the door to Tony’s room, the one he hadn’t come near since the incident with Steve. After a minute’s hesitation, he knocks on the door, and waits.

“Who’s there?”

Bucky’s breath catches, and he says, “James. James Barnes.”

There is silence for a few moments before Tony replies, with a weak voice, “Come in.”

Bucky lets out a soft sigh of relief as he pushes the door open. His eyes take a few moments to adjust to the darkness of the room––the lights are turned off, the blinds are closed, and though it’s midday, the room is immensely dark.

“Hey, Tony,” Bucky begins, closing the door slowly behind him.

“James,” Tony greets back, his eyes focused on his hands, refusing to travel up to Bucky’s direction.

He pauses, studying Tony’s look. He does _not_ seem to be alright, with reddened eyes and hollowed cheeks. His beard has grown again, no longer groomed, and his hair is now falling a good inch below his ears, mussed at the top.

But it’s the scarred hands that worry Bucky most.

Tony is sitting cross-legged on the ground, back leaning against the bed, and Bucky falls to the ground next to him. Tony gingerly tilts his head in Bucky’s direction, but his expression does not change. It’s hollow, it’s blank.

Bucky uneasily shifts in his position, leaning closer to Tony. “Tony, I’m sorry, I really am. You trusted me, and I went and brought Steve here without requesting your permission or T’Challa’s, and that was––”

“James,” Tony interrupts weakly. “James, stop. I understand now, I just… I just lost it when I saw Steve, couldn’t help the flashbacks or the panic.”

Bucky nods slowly, finding himself unable to smile because something is _off_. It feels as though Tony is brushing him off, pushing him away by telling him what he wants to hear.  Something is plaguing Tony’s thoughts.

“Thank you.” Bucky responds sincerely, running his hand over his jeans and picking at a stray hair. His eyes remain focused on Tony.

Tony gives him a half-smile.

Bucky opens his mouth to speak. Pauses. Opens it again. “I’m not just here for a formal apology, Tony.” Exhale. “You don’t look okay. What’s going on?” His gaze then settles on Tony’s scarred hands, silently questioning the cause behind them.

Tony doesn’t want to burden Bucky with the news.

He also does not trust himself to deliver those news.

“I… James, look..” He says slowly.

Bucky places his hand on Tony’s shoulder. “I know it might be hard to trust me again, after all that’s happened, but please believe that I’m here for you. I won’t betray your trust, never again.”

Tony nods, remaining silence for a few moments, before he blurts: “It was too good to be true.”

Bucky furrows his eyebrows, puzzled.

“Ross getting taken away like that, impossibly good. We actually thought he could just be… rid of? Yeah, no way. No fucking way.” Tony continues. “He hurt Rhodey. We haven’t been hearing any news of him since he was taken in and then––and then we get footage and audio of them _torturing_ him if T’Challa and Talbot refuse to retract their accusations.”

He lets out a shaky breath, not having realized how quickly he had been rambling.

Bucky leans back against the bed, sitting straighter up. “Then you should show that footage to the council, show them what he’s doing.”

“Would have done that if the fucker hadn’t gotten his hands on Pepper.” Tony spits out. “Pepper just goes missing one day, along with her security guards. She’d assured me that everyone she was working with had been in the company for years, that she could trust them. But not when Ross bribes them, apparently, because her own fucking bodyguards knocked her out with chloroform and took her to God knows where now.” His eyes begin to sting. “We just got images of her tied to a wooden chair in the middle of nowhere, and when we tracked the address down, turned out they sent the photos from a random gas station in New York city. Not much help.”

Bucky pales. “What? When did this all happen? We didn’t––we didn’t hear about any of this.”

“Pepper? Last night. Rhodey? Just over a day ago. T’Challa will probably deliver the news today to you guys because of––” Tony stops, and gulps.

“Because?” Bucky prods. “Tony?”

“Because Laura…Laura Barton…” Tony inhales shakily. “This isn’t my news to tell.”

“She’s been taken in, too?”

Tony shuts his eyes tightly. Shakes his head. “Murdered,” he whispers. “This morning.”

The words feel heavy on his tongue.

“No,” Bucky says, slowly. “No, what? They can’t have––Clint will––No…”

Tony brings up a knee, and rests his forehead against it.

“ _Shit_ ,” Bucky breathes away, resting his head back against the bed. “What the–– _shit_.”

They sit in silence.

 

* * *

 

They remain in silence for minutes––or it could have been an hour, they really didn’t keep track of the time––before Bucky gently prompts, “So… the scars. On your hands?” He picks up Tony’s wrist, running his thumb along one of the scars.

“Got frustrated,” Tony whispers. “Thought punching the mirror repeatedly would help. It was the second mirror I broke. T’Challa ordered them to stop replacing it, since I don’t exactly need a mirror now.”

Bucky squeezes Tony’s hand gently. Tony’s eyes widen slightly, and Bucky lets go of his hand.

A few minutes later, Tony murmurs, “Pepper doesn’t deserve any of this. She’s the CEO of a technology company, she’s not… she shouldn’t be dragged into politics like this. Every time I get into something, she gets brought in. I don’t understand. She hasn’t done anything to harm _anyone_ , but they target her.”

Bucky studies Tony carefully, his heart clenching at the words. It’s true. Pepper was a kind soul, from what he’d heard––and seen, in the few times she visited Wakanda–-and she’d managed to become a top target to Tony’s enemies. Now Laura Barton had gotten involved, too, and… and look what happened to her.

It’s hard to wrap his head around the fact that Ross ordered Laura dead, even when he was under captivity. It only leads him to wonder _whose_ captivity Ross is under, exactly, that gives him such freedom and power.

Of course Ross wouldn’t be the only person using the Accords for their underlying personal plans. And when Ross was called out, it would have been in their best interest to remain quiet and to help Ross secretly.

“No, she didn’t deserve it.” Bucky agrees. “Neither did Laura. But you know Pepper, you’ve told me about her yourself… she’s powerful, and smart. I think she’s going to kick their asses.”

“It’s not about whether or not she can kick their asses,” Tony explains, uncurling from his previous position. “I know she can, and she will. It’s just––she shouldn’t have to. Pepper shouldn’t have had to get Extremis, and I promised her that she would no longer get dragged into shit like this because of me. I thought the Accords would help that, but clearly I was wrong.”

“But you tried,” Bucky tries to reassure him. “You did it for her, and it didn’t work out, but how would you have seen that coming––”

“Steve did.”

Bucky pauses. “It doesn’t work like that.”

Tony raises an eyebrow in question.

“Look, neither of you could have fully predicted how this would turn out.” Bucky explains. “You saw the good in the Accords, and you wanted to expand on that, while tactically waiting to put Ross away. If you had been in the US, Tony, maybe things would have been different. You told me, before, that you kept asking for Laura to join Talbot for protection… and she kept refusing. If you and Clint had been there, maybe she and Pepper would not have been targets to begin with. Steve wouldn’t be a fugitive, I wouldn’t be so hunted down. I’m just saying… Steve was right about not trusting Ross, but truthfully, if this hadn’t all happened, then it would have been much easier to wipe him out. We’re all stuck here, and he has all the power and spies he wants over there.”

“Yeah… Natasha and I wanted to keep one hand on the wheel,” Tony says. “Just in case something like this happened. Then––then at least we would have had a part to play, a voice to be heard. T’Challa is doing his best, but he’s the leader of another country… It’s different.”

Bucky nods. “That’s why you guys––the Avengers––work best as a team. You and Natasha could have handled the public image, the meetings, the details in the Accords… Steve and Sam and the others could have handled the traitors and spies running around.”

Tony shrugs, but nods hesitantly. It’s hard to think of the Avengers as his team now.

All he can see is Steve slamming the shield down onto the suit’s reactor. Steve’s face when Tony saw the footage. Steve’s face when he spoke about Howard. Steve’s face when he was _always_ disappointed with whatever Tony did.

It’s all he can remember, and it’s hard. Even if they manage to work as a team again… No, scratch that. They can’t be a team again, not when Tony can literally provide _nothing_ to them; He can’t fight, he can’t create tech, he can’t even survey the battles from a base. So no, not teammates… but if they manage to become _acquaintances_ again, Tony will never see anything past his memories of them.

Whether or not they smile at him, he will not see it. He will only see the faces and expressions that his bitter memories will project.

“Could have,” Tony affirms. “Once upon a time, maybe. But not now. Now we can’t be a team. Now _I_ can’t be anything. And it sucks, you know why? Because I can’t do shit about it. I can’t visualize my own surroundings, let alone the fucking globe and Ross’s hideouts.”

“Tony, you’ll find a way to help us.” Bucky assures him. “I know it. You––you’re smart, and skilled, and somehow you’ll find a way. Don’t forget that Wanda can help you, too. It just… It doesn’t suit you to be so pessimistic.”

Tony smirks weakly. “Yeah, that’s usually your job. ‘ _I think I’m useless, so I want to go under cryo. Even though I have a super soldier serum, and the King of Wakanda offered to build me a vibranium arm, and I’ve been a science smartass since the 1930s, and I’m a great sniper, and I fought against Hitler’––”_

“Stop,” Bucky interjects, a smile forming on his face. “You’re forgetting the part where I get triggered by a 10-word sequence and I turn into a mass murdering assassin.”

“And you’re forgetting the part where my brain doesn’t realize I have eyes, and will never process anything that I should be seeing.”

Bucky exhales softly, then stands up and walks across the room to the windows. He opens the blinds, then opens the windows for a breath of fresh air. He stands before the window for a few moments, studying the view outside the room, before asking: “So what should we do?”

“About what?”

“About Ross.”

“I don’t know. I’m not exactly in a position to construct plans.”

“Then provide your input on whatever plans they construct. You’ve gotta be tired of being on the sidelines, only hearing whatever T’Challa or I deliver to you. I, for one, think we need to hear what you might have to say.”

“They don’t need my input.” Tony argues weakly, though he knows that Bucky is right––He _is_ tired of being on the sidelines, tired of hiding from the team.

“T’Challa and I will appreciate it. Not to mention, they have Pepper and Rhodey. This isn’t about the Raft and Siberia anymore, is it? It’s about Laura and Clint’s kids, it’s about Pepper being stranded somewhere and Rhodey getting tortured. You should come with me.”

“To?”

“The team’s mansion.”

Tony stills, contemplating for a few minutes. Bucky waits patiently.

Then, Tony grips the bed for support, and pushes himself to stand up as well. He pats around the nightstand to find his shades, then his folded cane.

They may never be teammates again, but they all have things to settle with Ross. And as long as they have that in common, Tony will try his best to work with them in order to save Rhodey and Pepper.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tony's no longer on the sidelines, and he's gonna meet the team next chapter B)


	14. Outburst

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TONY IS BACK!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was such a fun chapter to write, because finally, Tony speaks /up/. 
> 
> Enjoy!!x
> 
> [Also, warnings for more explicit swear words in this chapter].

“Careful, we’re nearing some small stairs,” Bucky warns Tony, slowing down.

Tony nods, following Bucky’s lead. He’s using his cane, but he finds that it’s easier to follow Bucky when he’s gripping his elbow. He doesn’t feel quite as lost, doesn’t feel like he’s floating in nothingness… No, when he’s holding onto Bucky, he can feel the ground beneath his feet, solid and real.

His heart is hammering in his chest, bile is rising up to his throat, anxiety and fear want to over take him––but Tony fights them.

_You’re going to the team again. Wanda will play with your mind, Natasha will look you down. Steve will attack you, Scott will make fun of you, Clint will murder you––_

Deep breath.

No, they won’t. They won’t. Barnes promised him that.

_And you trust Barnes? The man who brought Steve to you against your wishes, who––_

Who apologized. Barnes may have made a mistake, but he apologized, and he was sincere in his apology. Tony was shaken, perhaps a bit angered, but his trust in Barnes did not waver. He understands that they’re both grown men who have to make difficult decisions under difficult situations.

“Tony? You alright?” Bucky’s voice pulls Tony back to reality.

He clears his throat, and forces a small smile. “Yeah, I’m good. I’m good. I’m going to be fine in there,” he says, more to himself than Barnes, “it’s going to be alright.”

Bucky nods, letting out a soft sigh of relief, and assures him, “Yes, you will. Like I said, we all have one motive now, one big enemy. There’s no good in dwelling over the shit that happened––not that you don’t have every right to… I don’t expect that you’ll forget Siberia,” a deep breath, “especially when its aftereffects were so severe and long-lasting.” Tony is blind. “But you’re you. I know I hadn’t known you before… everything. But I like to think I got to know the real you better than anyone else on the team… And I believe in you, yeah?”

Tony feels a tingling in his stomach, and his grip on Bucky’s elbow tightens. Does Bucky know him better than anyone else on the team? In all honesty, yes, he most likely does. Barnes and T’Challa were the only two people, aside from Pepper and Rhodey, that Tony had opened up to––all fragile, anger, pain and fear. No barriers.

And it feels good to hear Barnes say that. The man has a skill of being reassuring. He’d heard Steve talk about it a few times, way back, when they would find him sketching Barnes or looking at a photo of him. ‘ _Bucky was different. He never tried to stop me from pursuing something, not when he knew I wouldn’t give it up. But he never gave up on me. He made sure I’d stay safe, that he had my back when I needed him. When I felt down, he would always find a way to reassure me––to make me feel like I’m not that skinny, useless kid I felt I was.’_

Now he’s making Tony feel like he’s not the blind, disabled man he was.

Scratch that––he’s making Tony feel like he’s not a _useless_ disabled man. Tony can and will still do whatever he can. For Rhodey. For Pepper. He will do what he can until, literally, his death.

The corners of Tony’s lips quirk up, and he teases, “Feeling cheesy, aren’t you? _I believe in you, Tony_.” Then he laughs. “Thank you though, James. For real.”

As he finishes his words, Barnes comes to a halt. Tony can feel him inhaling deeply, and is about to question why they’ve stopped, when Bucky says: “We’re here. You got this, remember?”

Tony feels his throat dry up, but he nods. He got this.

Bucky pulls the door open.

Tony can hear everyone at once––all their voices, voices he’d avoided for _months––_ before everything falls to complete silence.

They must be staring at him.

Oh, God. He can almost see their faces. Natasha’s eyes must be narrowed, one of her eyebrows raised. Steve’s eyebrows furrow when he’s confused or angered––or both. Clint is probably sneering down at him, Scott is––

“Tony.”  Tony hadn’t realized he was shaking until Bucky’s whisper snapped him out of his imagination. “Tony?”

Tony clears his throat, inhales, exhales. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m good,” he rasps.

“Tony.” Another voice sounds, laced with disbelief. It sounds like Natasha, but it carries a softness that is often absent from her tone. “Barnes, does he know…?”

“I know where I am.” Tony defends, voice rising. “And I’m not here to address anything that’s happened. I’m only here to address what we have to do.”

He lets out a shaky breath. That had come out stronger than he expected.

Good.

The room falls silent again.

“Oh, right.” Clint’s voice comes, and Tony recoils. “You don’t want to talk about happened. Why? Because the shithead Ross you wanted us to follow _killed_ my wife, you piece of shit, and my kids––where the fuck are they? Fuck, you just want to pretend like none of this happened, just want to walk back in and––”

Barnes opens his mouth to _shut him the fuck up_ , but pauses when Tony answers first.

“I don’t want to fucking walk back in!” Tony bellows. “I don’t want to be a part of whatever fucking team this is. I never was, never will be, and now you have no use for me that Steve Rogers, the greatest Captain America, _blinded_ me. I don’t want to be around any of you,” his grip tightens on Bucky, however. “I can see all your faces, angry and sneering and mocking. And I don’t want to explain myself to any of you. I don’t care what you say, or think. Call me a shithead, call me a traitor, a fucking villain. I don’t care. I know what I did, and I’ve come to terms with it. Whether or not you want to grow up and reflect on what _you_ did as well doesn’t fucking matter to me.”

He’s panting. His eyes are stinging. His stomach is clenched.

He lets out laboured, shaky breaths, thankful for the shades covering his watering eyes. He’s on the verge of vomit, but he pushes the bile back down. He won’t collapse, not in front of those people––the people who want to see him crash, who want to see him _die_.

“I’m only here because I care about Pepper and Rhodey.” Tony spits. “Because I accept it was my fucking fault for leaving them and for putting them through all of this. They shouldn’t have gotten involved, and they did, because of me. Maybe if you stayed retired, stayed by your family’s side, they wouldn’t have gotten dragged into this.”

“Oh, no, don’t you say that––”

Bucky’s eyes are widened, and he wants to speak up, wants to calm the men down, but Tony doesn’t give him the chance. He’s finally gotten the opportunity to speak up, to let out an explosion of feelings, to finally tell off the others…

And Bucky will him have it.

“I _will_ say that. You always get to say what you want,” Tony says, his voice falling deep. “Fuck, you always put your shit on me, I never spoke back. I took it, because I cared about the team. Dumb mistake, caring about a group of selfish shitheads. I did everything for you. I never complained when you pushed me too hard to do something, when you shit me down for Ultron––but not Wanda or Bruce––and when you wanted me to obey all your direct orders because you’re all gifted superheroes and I’m just the banker and builder for the team, the guy who’s loose and insane and needs to be kept in check––”

“Tony,” Bucky calls in alarm. Tony’s shaking is intensifying, and there are tears dripping on his cheeks, now visible as they drop below his shades. “Tony, Clint, that’s enough! We’re here to talk about––”

“No,” Tony argues. “No. I _was_ here to talk about Pepper and Rhodey and then he––then he––I don’t want to be treated like that anymore. I don’t what any of you to think I’m the same Tony who gave everything in his life for your team, who let down Pepper hundreds of times for your sake, who would have _literally_ been willing to die for any of you.”

“You really think you were all that much?” Clint shouts, standing up.

Sam immediately puts a hand on his shoulder, forcing him back. Clint was out of it, ever since he’d heard the news about his family––but he was in no position to take it all out on Tony. Tony, who looked to be faring much, much worse than any of them. Sam had never seen Tony look this thin, this fragile. Had never seen his hair that long and messy, his face not carefully groomed.

Tony, who had literally lost his _sight_ in the stupid battle they had had.

And Clint still thought he had the right to talk like this? Aggravation boiled in Sam’s abdomen, and he hissed, “Clint, cut it out.”

“No, don’t talk down to me, okay? You don’t get to do that anymore.” Tony continues, however. “I’m not your punching bag, I’m not your fucking scapegoat. You make mistakes, you fucking admit to them. But you can’t do that, you never could. That’s why you couldn’t sign the Accords. How could you accept the fact that you left your family just to fight with Steve against the law? Then you'll be admitting to being a criminal. How could Captain America admit to having flaws in his plans? How could he accept that there were other leaders in the world, who wanted their borders respected and their own superheroes to act out? Captain America makes no mistakes!”

Tony imagines Steve must be seething.

But Steve looks like a kicked puppy.

He can’t deny any of what Tony is saying, and it kills him. It kills him to see that the man standing in front of him was _Tony_. It was hard to believe it was the same man he’d fought alongside, the same man who…

But who was to blame but himself and the team?

“Tony, you’re right, I’m so sorry, and that’s why I had come to see you the other day, I just wanted to apologize,” Steve says hurriedly, “You’re right, I refused to own up to my mistakes––you realized Ross was a mistake and you worked with Talbot and T’Challa and you tried to fix that mistake, but I didn’t want to see that I was acting hot-headed and selfish, and I’m sorry––”

“Don’t fucking apologize,” Clint groans. “This dick walks in wanting all of us to bow down to him and beg for his mercy and forgiveness, when he should have been the one in Laura’s place when she got fucking shot in the head." He turns to Tony. "Maybe I should put a bullet through your head, too.”

That hurts Tony more than he would like to admit.

Bucky and Wanda notice, because Tony’s fallen silent, and he drops his grip on Bucky’s elbow, letting his hand fall to his side.

Then he drops the cane.

Natasha exchanges a glance with Wanda, silently asking about what Wanda can see in his mind. Wanda shrugs, looking genuinely confused.

Clint’s fists uncurl at his sides, his breathing finally slowing down. He watches Tony carefully.

Tony then raises his hand to his face, hovering over the shades for a brief moment, before he yanks them off and throws them to the ground. His eyes are reddened, watery, and there are a few tears making their way down his face.

It throws the rest of them––aside from Barnes––off guard to see Tony’s unfocused eyes, making their way frantically around the room, never seeing anything they briefly land on.

He looks like a mess.

“This dick,” Tony says slowly, “always wanted to try his best. Always wanted to help when he could, always put the lives of others as his priority. You’re right, I should have been in Laura’s place. But I’m here. I don’t care if I’m here as your enemy, friend, or a piece of trash sitting next to you. I’m here for Pepper and Rhodey, I’m here to save the other superheroes from Ross. I’m here because _we_ put T’Challa and his kingdom in this mess. Once we’re done, then you can put the bullet through my head.”

Clint is speechless. He wants to argue, wants to push him away, but Sam urges him to sit back down, and Clint doesn’t resist.

He looks at Tony. Really looks at him, anger about what happened with Laura lying forgotten for a moment.

Tony looks like shit.

_Maybe I should put a bullet through your head, too._

He’d said that. God, he’d said that.

When his gaze travels to the others around the room, he’s met with a few glares. Predominantly Bucky’s and Wanda’s.

He can almost hear the unspoken words in their eyes: Whatever chance the team had with restoring old friendships with Tony, or even building new ones, was gone.

He blew it.

Another glance at Tony, and he can’t keep his eyes open. He shuts them tightly, and leans forward, resting his forehead on his palms. He’d told himself, multiple times, that it wasn’t Tony’s fault. He _knew_ it wasn’t Tony’s fault, knew that Tony hated Ross and was actually working on a plan to end the man’s plans before team Cap stormed in and fought another battle. He knows it, he’s heard from everyone else, he’s told it to himself.

But as soon as he saw Tony, he didn’t know what overcame him.

Maybe Tony is right. Maybe he is too afraid to accept his own mistakes, to admit to their consequences. If he didn’t blame Tony, then he would have to be the one apologizing, and… and his idiotic ego couldn’t stand that.

“I made everything worse,” he mutters, low enough that only Sam can hear him.

He almost hopes to hear Sam deny that.

Sam doesn’t. Instead, he replies with a scoff. “Don’t I know it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone else cheering for Tony?! I mentally did.
> 
> And Clint––I would almost feel bad for him, if he hadn't made it that much worse. But his reaction is very human, I think, and I really wanted to have a turning point for him where he /finally/ accepts his mistakes. (Because in the movie, I just wanted to scream at him to stop talking shit to Tony. And Tony's hurt look, man? He was taking it all in, not speaking back. So I let him have it here instead.)
> 
> What did you guys think?


	15. The Plan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team begins to plan their upcoming moves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been so long since I've updated, I'm sorry D: I was working on my Voltron fic, Trembling Lips. Check it out!! :p
> 
> Anyway, this is a bit of a bridge chapter, to kind of clarify where I want the team to go next and what teams they'll be dividing into.

Tony crouches down, patting the ground in search for his dropped cane. He can hear Bucky shuffling closer to him, no doubt hovering nearby in case Tony requires help. But Tony finds the cane, and pushes himself back up, moving across the room to find an empty seat. His cane hits a few people (Tony can’t be sure of who they are) but eventually, he does find a seat, and Bucky plops down next to him.

“Hey,” Bucky whispers, shuffling closer. “Good job.”

Tony raises an eyebrow, turning his head to what he feels is the direction of Bucky’s face. He’s hesitant, for a moment, to accept the praise. _Had_ he done a good job? He’d told them off, and it had felt… different. It felt strange to speak up, to voice his anger-–it’s not something Tony was used to. Usually, he would take it in, bury it deep inside his heart, and release the resulting anger and pain through his tech projects.

Sure, Tony was one for banter. He would argue, he would attempt to defend himself against Fury’s battering or Steve’s angered comments. But when it really hurt, or when Tony had really felt at fault, he had never dared to fire back.

“Tony, it’s okay.” Bucky whispers again. It seems that he always knows what’s on Tony’s mind nowadays. “You were right. We need to focus on the situation at hand, at Pepper and T’Challa and Rhodey. You said the right thing.”

Tony inhales slowly, and nods. Then he nods again, and forces a small smile.

“Okay, so,” Natasha speaks up, rising to stand. She runs her hands down her shirt, straightening it out. “Ross clearly has spies working for him, has ties running deep in the government. We need to figure out who’s backing him up, otherwise whatever we do will yield no actual results.”

The door then opens, and T’Challa strides in, Bruce at his feet. He nods at the team in greeting, does not comment when he sees Tony––simply smiles to himself. “I am glad to see that you’ve gathered here. We have a lot to discuss, and I’m not sure it’s going to be very pleasant.”

“We were just saying that we need to find the roots, the people supporting Ross, before we can take him down,” Natasha informs him. “But… I’m personally at a loss, your Highness. This is exactly why I initially thought having one hand on the wheel would prove advantageous… we could directly see what’s going on behind the scenes, we could speak up but…”

T’Challa sighs, taking a seat next to Bucky. He frowns when he notes that Clint does not appear to be engaged in the conversation, with his head bowed and his eyes closed. But he turns his attention back to Natasha. “You are right, Romanov. Unfortunately, that opportunity has been lost. And seeing as I was the only public face supporting both the Avengers and the Accords… I have no way of getting such information.”

“Well, you have me.” Bruce suggests. “I’ve been hiding from Ross for a long time, hiding from his people and his plans. But he’s only grown in that time. I might know more about him, I might… I might be able to go undercover.”

“Undercover?” Steve asks with a scowl. “Bruce, that’s far too dangerous.”

Bruce’s hands curl into fists at his sides, and his cheeks grow to a tinge of red. “ _Dangerous_. That’s a rich word coming from your mouth, Steve. What do you think this whole situation is, huh? This isn’t dangerous? Pepper’s life is on the line, Rhodey’s too. Laura _died_. We don’t know where Clint’s kids are. We have no news about Cassie. Look, Steve, you know that I don’t like to fight or ague, but––don’t use that tone on me, yeah? You don’t get to be the voice of reason.”

Steve’s frown deepens. “We’re not here to talk about what happened. I thought we agreed on that.” He exhales sharply. “And I don’t see reason in us going for an unnecessarily dangerous plan if we can avoid it. How do you know that Ross will trust you?”

“Ross has been after me for _years,_ Steve. Years. He needs my help with his research, he needs my power and knowledge. If I play into giving that to him, willingly, then he will have no reason to hurt me.”

“You can’t trust him.” Natasha counters. “Not after all what happened.”

“We can’t trust anyone.”

They quiet down, turning to Tony in surprise. His eyes are focused on the ground, and aggravation lines his face. “We can’t trust anyone. This isn’t about trusting someone anymore. I don’t think any of us here actually trust each other,” he leans closer to Bucky, though, “and I don’t think we need to.”

Steve’s jaw clenches. “What are you saying, Tony?”

“I trust that we have the same goal. If Bruce can make Ross trust that he, too, has the same goal as that dickhead, then they can work together.”

Bruce nods, grateful for Tony’s choice of words. “He’s right. And since I trust that you want to take him down, too, I think I could count on you to be my backup. I’ll give you all the information I can get. If I end up getting hurt, or betrayed, then I _will_ trust you to have my back.”

“I think you don’t have to be the only one going in.” Wanda adds thoughtfully. “You can join in behind the scenes, but I can go public. Ask for forgiveness, ask to join the Accords. Apologize to the world. I can… see thoughts, snippets of memories. That may help me find out who else in the Accords works with Ross.”

T’Challa nods, crossing his legs and leaning back into his seat. “It will also be a good step to getting the world to believe my promises of you feeling regretful and seeking forgiveness, seeking a new chance to prove yourselves. I have to admit, at this point, hiding will only do you more bad than good. I’m not saying you need to step out at once, but… I like Wanda’s idea.”

“Then I should go with Wanda,” Natasha proposes.

“No,” Tony counters. “The UN will trust Barnes before they can trust you.”

Natasha shifts on her feet, tilts her head back defensively. “And why is that?”

“Because you signed,” Tony explains pointedly. “You signed, then you went behind everyone’s back. What are you going to say? ‘I’m sorry I betrayed the Accords and now I want to come back as if I hadn’t done anything’?”

“You betrayed the Accords, too.” Natasha nearly growls. “Or did you forget?”

Tony’s jaw clenches.

Sam is tapping his fingers on the arm of the couch, quietly listening to everyone’s ideas. Then he says, “well, it’s still not a good idea for you to go back. Tony is right, they won’t trust you. They’re more likely to trust someone who acted against the Accords, suffered for it, and now wants to redeem themselves. I could go, too.”

They begin to argue, trying to decide who would be best fit to join Wanda. They quiet down, however, when Tony taps his cane against the ground.

“Okay, this is fun and all, but we have to work out a strategic plan.” He says. “There are only two people who can join Wanda, and it’s me and Rogers.”

They stare at him.

But T’Challa sits up, nodding. He gets where Tony’s going. “Tony and Steve had been the main faces of the Accords and its opposition, the leaders of either side. If Steve returns, seeking redemption, then the world will assume the same for the remainder of you. If, let’s say, only Sam and Wanda return, then they will not be satisfied; what of Rogers? Why has he not reconsidered?”

“Okay,” Steve says, processing the idea. “That makes sense. But why you, Tony?”

“Because you need something to sell your story,” Clint chimes in. He opens his eyes, raising his head for the first time since T’Challa has walked in. “The man who opposed the government and suddenly decided to apologize, or the man who saw what he’s done to his friend in pursue of his own goals, and has come back to redeem himself?”

Tony was a businessman. To Steve, the story of an honourable soldier seeking forgiveness may be catchy enough, but to the government, to the _world_ , it would not. They would want a bang, a story that would make the headlines, that would make everyone marvel at his apology.

A headline of the man who fought to pursue his own goals until he realized what it had cost him: his friends, his team, his title… and everything he had been fighting _for_.

“So what, you guys show up together, crying and moaning about your sins?” Scott asks incredulously .

“No.” Tony patiently answers. “I go with Wanda. Say she found me in some… village across the world, blind and battered and lost to shit. Few days later, Steve turns up, shocked at the sights of his ex-teammate. Brought to a realization after hearing Wanda’s speech, yada yada. That way, we will have legal ground to make demands. Plus, T’Challa will have more support when people see that he’s been telling the truth.”

It's a solid start.

"What about us?" Clint asks. 

"You can join with me," Steve replies. "You and Sam. I think Bucky should... should maybe stay back here for a while."

Bucky shakes his head lightly, slightly annoyed. "I'm not going to lie back and watch you guys work at it." When Steve wants to argue, Bucky rushes to say, "I won't turn up to the Accords, okay? But maybe I can help Bruce. Just think about it: you go up there, apologizing and feeling guilty. What happened to Barnes? Oh, I don't know. He ran away when he realized he would need to go under trial. So where did I go? I went to Ross's people, who Bruce will lead me to. Say I'm angry about you doing the Accords, wanting to get revenge from you and Stark... Maybe I can make my way to Pepper or Rhodey."

Tony inhales sharply. That's a dangerous, dangerous idea.

But he cannot argue it.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .... yikes. They have a solid plan, don't they? You all know it's too good to be true for my writing, so there WILL be complications in the upcoming chapters.
> 
> that being said, I do want this to get resolved soon (but not too rushed), so some things will flow easily, others will get complicated, and vice versa. Eventually, they will make it I promise ; u ; they're getting there!


	16. The Accords

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony and Wanda go out to the public.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eyy so last chapter was short and uneventful, so I thought I would update asap!! I hope you enjoy this much longer chapter!!

“I don’t feel good about this,” Bucky admits, shaking his head. They’re standing by the chopper, where Wanda and Tony will take off to start their plan. But Bucky can’t let go––yes, he’s holding Tony’s arm, and he can’t _let go_ ––because he’s terrified.

He’s terrified of anything going wrong.

He’s terrified of the idea of Tony going back to the public, back to the governments, in his fragile state. He’s terrified of the endless possibilities of someone hurting him. He’s terrified of their plan _not working_.

“James,” Tony gently prods. “Please. We have to do this, and you know it.”

“That doesn’t change the fact that I’m scared.” Bucky says, and sighs. He can see Steve from the corner of his eyes, looking surprised, amused, worried. It must be odd for him to see Bucky with Tony like this, especially because he had not seen their friendship develop over numerous months.

“Well, I’m scared too.” Tony’s voice is low, hoarse. “I think we all are. But we can’t keep hiding in this heavenly place forever. We got names to clear, people to take care of. As much as I’d love to stay here and forget about the world… I can’t.”

“You’re an easy target.”

“I know. So are you.”

Bucky can’t argue that. “Be careful.”

Tony heaves a sigh, and pulls at his arm, giving Bucky the message to release it. Bucky hesitates before he does. Tony shakes his head, then, and says: “You too, James. Focus on your mission, and stay careful. I’m scared for you, too, but at least I’m not being a wimp about it.” He smiles teasingly. “I have faith in you. Come on, have a little faith in _me_.”

Bucky smiles back, despite himself. “I do.” He pauses. “Anyway, you better get going.”

Tony nods. “Can you help me onto the chopper?”

Bucky guides him to the chopper, but finds that he is unable to help Tony up… not when he only has one arm. Wanda stands, coming to help, but Steve beats her by a step. “Mind if I help, Tony?”

Tony tenses, at first. Then he focuses on his breathing, just as Helen had taught him––elongate your exhales, don’t overthink your inhales. A few moments later, he brings himself to nod.

Steve’s own tense shoulders ease in relief, and he steps closer, hovering a hand over Tony’s shoulder.

Then he feels his heart clench.

Tony can’t see him. His eyes are roaming the area in front of him, but they’re not glancing to the side to focus on Steve. He’s not studying Steve like he normally would, with intensity and calculation. He doesn’t look angry, doesn’t look annoyed… He just looks _clueless_.

It’s not a look he’s ever seen on Tony.

Tony is blind.

The reality settles in, deeper than before. Tony is blind, and it’s because of him.

 _I blinded him. I… I_ blinded _him._

But Tony is still standing before him, on his way to go save their asses from the mess they’d dug themselves into.

Tony is standing there, waiting for Steve to help him get onto a chopper because––because Tony can’t see and it’s all his _fault_.

Tony raises his eyebrows, then, and tilts his head slightly to the left, where he knows Steve is standing. “Steve?” he calls in a small voice. Was everything okay? Why had everyone suddenly quieted?

Steve lets out a shaky breath, and brings down his hand to gently touch Tony’s shoulder. He licks his dry lips, then nods to himself. “Yeah, sorry, I just.. Uh.” He gulps, fighting down the sudden lump forming in his throat. “There’s a step in front of you, but it’s quite high. Just, uh, take a step forward then raise your foot.”

And it feels wrong, right there, to be directing Tony like that. He’s not directing Tony in battle, no. He’s directing him to going up some _steps_. Steve doesn’t––he doesn’t feel _sorry_ for Tony so much as he feels anger with _himself_.

He expects Tony to look aggravated. Would his ego be hurt, Steve wonders? To have Steve helping him when Steve had been the cause of all of this? But when he looks at Tony, he finds that Tony looks… neutral. Almost _too_ neutral for himself.

 _He’s changed_ , Steve thinks. _He’s changed in more ways than we can understands_.

A glance at Bucky, and Steve realizes: _Except Buck. He understands._

Tony climbs onto the step, with Steve supporting his bodyweight, and pushes his other foot up and into the chopper before Steve or Bucky direct him to. As a result, his head hits the doorframe, because he should have lowered it.

“Tony,” Bucky rushes. “You okay?”

Tony brings a hand to rub at his head, grouching. Then he smiles and lets out a small chuckle. “You could warn a guy.”

“I thought you would take it step by step.” Steve admits, shooting him an apologetic look.

Tony’s expression turns somber. “Sorry.”

Steve furrows his eyebrows, puzzled as to why Tony felt the need to apologize. But Tony ducks, and reaches out with both of his hands to find the edges of the doorframe to support himself. Though he gets into the chopper on his own, Steve’s hand remains on his back, just in case.

Bucky follows them in, leaning against the doorway (since the chopper is getting cramped). “Take care, yeah? You too, Wanda.” He smiles at her. “Take care of each other.”

Tony snorts, and sarcastically replies, “I’ll try my best to do that. I gotta warn you, I’m not exactly in top shape right now.”

Bucky rolls his eyes, and before he steps out of the chopper, he fires back with: “Don’t see a difference. You always look like shit.”

“Excuse you,” Tony grumbles, folding his cane. The small smile remains on his lips, however.

It amuses Steve to watch them interact. A part of him feels… envious. This Bucky, the Bucky interacting with Tony, is much more like the one he had known before the war––more so than the one who currently interacts with Steve.

He’s not sure how it’s come to that.

But… another part of him is happy. Happy to see this side of Bucky, regardless of who he’s interacting with. Happy to see that Tony, too, can act a little more like his past self when he’s around Buck.

“Stay safe, and keep us updated.” He says.

“Practice your speech,” Wanda tells him. “We need you to make them fall to their feet, sobbing at your touching apology. Don’t forget that.”

Steve raises an eyebrow, smiling bemusedly. “I think I can handle it.”

“You’re just a bad actor,” Wanda says matter-of-factly. “I need you to do your part justice.”

Steve exhales slowly, and his gaze falls to the ground. “I don’t think there will be much acting involved, Wanda.” He admits. “I _am_ sorry. For everything. I… I played a big part in this mess, and I want to fix it.”

She studies him carefully, no doubt grazing around his mind, and nods. “Good.”

Tony has heard him, but decides not to say anything.

“Good luck,” Steve says, then, and exits the chopper.

 

* * *

T’Challa is sitting in the conference room, hands crossed as his elbows rest on the table. The rest of the room may not see it, but he is tapping his foot anxiously underneath the table, and he has to fight to keep his expression neutral.

Tony and Wanda are going to walk in at any moment. T’Challa will have to confess to keeping them fugitive (but not any of the others).

And so he waits. The board discusses the fate of Ross, and T’Challa notes that a few men are ready to jump to his defence. At first, T’Challa thinks they may be the suspects working with Ross… but when are politics ever that easy? Anyone who truly supports Ross would not do so publicly and defensively.

He needs Wanda to confirm his theory.

“Your highness, T’Challa,” General Talbot calls out, snapping T’Challa’s attention back to the conference. “What do you think of the claim?”

The… what? He had not been listening.

“I…” He stammers, shaking his head. He can’t ask him to explain the claim, unless he wants to come across as an unprofessional king who is not taking this seriously. Because he is, he really is, but… there are other things on his mind.

He clears his throat, deciding that he _must_ ask Talbot to rephrase, and…

The door is thrown open.

They’re here.

Oh, thank the Gods.

“I’m sorry to interrupt,” the man who entered the room calls, breathless. “But there are urgent news. We have visitors, and I think you’d like to see them.”

Chatter erupts in the room, puzzled and intrigued looks colouring the faces of everyone. Everyone but T’Challa, that is, who is utterly relieved.

Someone calls for silence, and the chatter dies down. The man enters the room again. “I… Wanda Maximoff has decided to join us,” he informs them, just as Wanda walks in behind him. Gasps, cheers and insults sound across the room. “But––but that is not all.” His voice drops to a whisper. “Uh… You can… you can come in.”

It takes a few moments, but Tony eventually walks in.

T’Challa can immediately see the tension in his stance, the panicked breathing. He’s wearing shades to cover his eyes, but T’Challa can vividly imagine what it must look like beneath them––widened eyes, frantically roaming the room, desperate to focus onto something.

The room is stunned into silence. The cameramen immediately focus their attention to Tony, getting closer and zooming in on him. Wanda is nearly forgotten––which she is grateful for.

“I…” The president of the United States begins, trying to formulate a sentence. “Mr. Stark?”

Tony breathes out slowly, trying to even his breathing. He wants to smirk, wants to fake that confidence (because he _knows_ there are cameras on him, he can feel it)… but he can’t. He doesn’t have the energy to. He’s tired, he’s hurt, and he can’t hide it.

“Mr. President,” he greets back. His voice is weak, oh, so weak. Whatever confidence he’d mustered back in Wakanda before coming out here has dissipated, replaced immediately by the fear and anxiety that have clouded his mind for months.

“Please… take a seat.” Says the Japanese Prime Minister. He turns to the men standing behind him. “Bring them seats!”

They shuffle around, some of them leaving the room to bring chairs while others head over to lead Tony and Wanda to where they will sit. Tony flinches when someone grabs his arm, and jumps back a step, yanking his arm free.

“Don’t touch him,” Wanda growls. She turns to Tony. “Is it okay if I lead you instead?”

Tony nods, gulping, and reaches out to hold her elbow. She pushes her way through the crowd forming around them, making her way to where the seats are now placed and the microphones are being set up for them.

This is it. It’s happening.

They’re back.

When everything’s settled down a bit, Wanda decides to speak up before they can start asking her questions. “I’m here today to apologize. Before you ask me questions, I just want to say that I am honestly sorry for hurting so many people and failing to stand responsible. I was afraid of myself, and so it hurt me to see that others were so afraid of me, too. I wanted to do the right thing, and I… didn’t. I was afraid. I want to be a hero, but I am human. I think this is something many people don’t understand. We are humans.”

She is met with silence, and so she decides to continue. “I don’t know if what I did was right or wrong. The Accords scared me. They still do. But I do know that whatever life I was living hiding from you all was not what I wanted. I want to use my powers for good, I want to help people, I want to stand accountable. But I don’t want…” her voice wavers, “I don’t want to be treated like… like a machine or a… _weapon_.”

General Talbot smiles. He looks around the room, then back to Wanda, pleased to see that none of them hold anger in their expressions. “Miss Maximoff. I think I speak for all of us when I say that we’re extremely happy to see you here.”

T’Challa nods. Talbot had been informed of this plan, and he seems to be playing along rather well. “Miss Maximoff, Mr. Stark.” T’Challa greets. “I am inherently glad to hear you say that… because this is what the Accords should be: a means for discussion. We don’t want to treat you as a weapon––that is not what you are. You will be a hero, but you will have our support and backup.”

“I am… I am very sorry for the actions of General Ross,” Mr. President says. “You were not supposed to be sent to the Raft when you were, and you certainly were not supposed to be treated like that in there. I understand that he must have scared you, and it must have driven you away from us… So I am thankful to see you give the Accords a second chance.”

Wanda breathes out in relief. She had not expected to be _thanked_. She thought that she would be quarrelled, that they would rush to make her pay for going against them…

But T’Challa and Talbot must have worked hard to convince and remind everyone of the good in the Avengers.

“And I would be thankful if you will let me have that second chance.”

The political leaders begin to discuss amongst themselves, considering the idea. A few minutes later, the South African president says, “You deserve the chance, Miss Maximoff, to be the hero you were meant to be. As King T’Challa has said… our purpose is not to make a criminal of you, and we understand if we need to make accommodations for your comfort.”

Wanda smiles.

“However,” the president continues, “we will need to clarify a few matters, if that is okay?”

Her smile slowly fades, and she nods. “Of course.”

“First, we would like to ask Mr. Stark to explain himself.” A Nigerian general demands. “Mr. Stark?”

Tony pales, grip tightening around the cane in his hand. What direction does he tilt his head? He can’t be sure, because the microphones are sounding through the speakers around the room.

Everything is loud. The air is heavy. He can feel too many eyes on him.

It’s suffocating.

“I…” He wants to get _out_. “I acted against Ross’s orders, I went behind his back.”

He winces, berating himself for how shaky his voice sounds. Tony Stark was _never_ nervous on camera, he was never weak or _pathetic_. No, Tony always managed to keep his mask up for the paparazzi, for the media, for the news.

And now he can barely _speak_.

“Can you explain to everyone what you mean by that, Mr. Stark?” T’Challa asks. Tony clings to his voice, trying to plant himself into solid ground within the eternal darkness that surrounds him. T’Challa is here.

“He wanted Rogers shot on sight, and I fought to be allowed to try and talk to him at the airport.” Tony explains, exhaling slowly. T’Challa is here. Wanda is here. Talbot is here. He can imagine them around him, and it makes him feel a little better. A little stronger. “But when Rogers got away, I wanted to help him and to bring him back. I thought… he’s my friend, you know? The Accords shouldn’t destroy the team like that. So I spoke with Falcon, who gave me Rogers’ location.”

By now, everyone is intrigued. Some people are leaning forward in their seats, watching with widened eyes. The cameras are flashing.

There is excitement in the room. They’re excited to be hearing new information. Excited to finally get some insight on what had happened to the Avengers.

“And you… pursued him?” Talbot asks.

“Yes.” Tony confesses. “And I didn’t tell Ross. Not because I didn’t trust the Accords, but because I didn’t trust _him_. When he put them on the Raft… when I saw what he did to them, how he _strapped_ Wanda down… I felt that I had to give Rogers another chance. I had to listen to what he had to say.”

“And… what happened then?” The English Prime Minister asks, her voice laced with eagerness.

Tony shifts in his seat. “We found Zemo, the man who had painted James Barnes as the suspect for all his crimes.” That is met with a number of gasps. “We were going to fight him, but then…”

But then Tony saw the footage of Barnes murdering his parents.

“But then Steve demanded that I leave, because I was his enemy for…” He can’t place James as a bigger criminal. But Steve will work this out, just like they have planned. “I was his enemy for signing the Accords. I got mad and I attacked him, we were both tired and… out of it. I, uh… I got beat pretty bad.”

The question hangs in the air. Everyone is wondering whether or not that fight is the cause behind Tony’s loss of sight, though no one has dared to directly address it.

“I suffered a stroke, lost use of my occipital lobe…” He exhales shakily. “Yes. I lost my sight.”

It grows loud again, and Tony sinks into his chair, his head hanging low. He’s said it. He’s said it, and somehow his chest feels heavier now. He can already hear the murmurs of pity, the snapping of cameras, the gasps of amusement.

It’s overwhelming.

His eyes begin to sting, to water, and Tony gulps down hard. He can’t cry. Not in front of those people, not in front of the world. He presses his lips thinly, and crosses his arms. He just needs to make it through this conference.

He can do that, can’t he?

“You alright?” Wanda whispers next to him, far enough from the microphone that her voice doesn’t sound to the rest of the room.

Tony’s afraid that if he opens up his mouth, only a sob will sound, and so he resorts to a simple nod.

“And how did the two of you come to meet?” Another spokesperson inquires.

Wanda takes a glance at Tony, then to T’Challa.

He nods. “They came to meet in Wakanda.”

That warrants a shocked silence.

“In… Wakanda?” The US president asks in disbelief. “King T’Challa, you have _denied_ Ross’s claims to your housing the Avengers––”

“I never denied his claims.” T’Challa interjects. “He could never prove them, because I did not house the fugitives. I only housed Mr. Stark, who I found in Siberia when I also found Zemo. Mr. Stark was not a fugitive, simply a man who needed care.”

“But you have kept silent!” Another person shouts.

“I did,” T’Challa forces his voice to remain calm. He knew there would be consequences, but as he had promised Tony… they are ones he will be willing to deal with. “For good reason. You were not seeking Mr. Stark legally, were you? He had nothing to warrant arrest or a fugitive status. But Ross was after him. And as you can see, Mr. Stark has not been in the best state. How could I give him to Ross?”

“You could have told us, at least, that you were keeping him.”

“Out of courtesy, perhaps. But there are no legal reasons for me to have revealed that.”

“But you––”

Wanda makes mental note of the people fighting T’Challa’s choice.

General Talbot clears his throat. “I think King T’Challa’s actions were quite appropriate. Think about it, Ross has taken _hostages_. As far as we know, he’s the main suspect behind Miss Pott’s disappearance. He could have easily taken Mr. Stark for a target.”

Wanda’s eyes widen, snapping to a quiet woman sitting between T’Challa and the Japanese Prime Minister. Images of Pepper, strapped to a chair, popped up in his thoughts.

 _Yoshiko Ho_ , a Japanese spokesperson.

“He was simply thinking ahead,” another person comments. “I think I can understand, and excuse, that. As soon as the safe time for him to reveal this came up… Well, here we are. He hasn’t kept it a secret any longer.”

“I think he has James Rhodes, too,” Wanda pipes up, keeping a close eye on the Japanese spokespeople. She hopes that the mention of Rhodey will remind them of something… but it doesn’t.

Instead, it reminds the Russian Minister of Defence, Vladimir, of a recording of Rhodey.

Huh.

“Whoever he has,” Yoshiko interrupts, “is not our priority. We are here to discuss the Accords, not Ross. Miss Maximoff, how did you end up in Wakanda, if King T’Challa claims he has housed no fugitives?”

Wanda narrows her eyes at the other woman, and crosses her arms defensively. “I only went to Wakanda three days ago. I saw the news of the Accords being open to letting us back if we choose to, and that we are considered retired… and King T’Challa was one of the leading spokespeople that supported us. I went to him because I believed he would help me come here… and he has.”

“And why did you leave the other fugitives?”

“I left them a long time ago. I went back to Romania, to a small town where people trusted me and kept me safe. They supported my decision to sign the Accords, however. I have not seen the others for months.”

“Very well,” the US president says. “This has been a very… eventful conference. I’m sure we have a lot to discuss and consider. Perhaps we can defer the meeting to tomorrow morning?”

They vote on a time, and come to agree to hold the next conference at 10 a.m the following morning. When the meeting is officially over, the parties rise to exit, leaving the room one by one.

T’Challa immediately walks over to Wanda and Tony.

“Tony, Wanda,” he says. “You did very well.”

Tony has been quiet for a while, only having spoken when he was prompted to, and T’Challa notes the soft quivering of his lips. “Let’s get out of here, grab a meal, then we can talk.”

“I _am_ hungry,” Wanda admits.

“Very well. Let’s go.”

 

* * *

 

They end up in T’Challa’s private quarters at the nearby hotel. T’Challa walks into the washroom, immediately changing into a t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants, then plops down onto the bed.

What a tiring, eventful day.

He can’t help but grin.

“That didn’t go too bad.”

“No,” Wanda agrees. “But I hope it doesn’t get worse.”

T’Challa sits up, then, and looks at Tony. “Tony? You are very tense. You can take off your glasses, change into more comfortable clothes if you want. You both have change here. I was going to get you your own private rooms but… I thought that getting us one room with three beds would be safer.”

Tony nods. “Thanks.”

“You did well,” Wanda tells him, resting her chin onto hand, with her elbow resting on the table. “You were scared, with good reason. But you did well.”

Tony exhales sharply. “Thanks,” he mutters again.

“What is it, Tony?” T’Challa asks. “You can tell us. You know that.”

“I… It’s just that…” Tony takes off his shades, resting them on his thigh, and rubs at his eyes with the palms of his hands. “Everyone was staring at me and… they were will whispering about how sad I looked and… how heartbreaking it was to see _Mr. Stark_ like this… And the media… What do the headlines say? ‘Mr. Stark has hit a new low’?”

“Well, screw them.” Wanda tells him. “They can say what they say. You, of all people, know how media focuses on what will sell. That was part of your plan.”

“Yeah, I know it’s pathetic but––” He bites down on his lip, then, “––but it’s getting to me. It just feels like everything’s real, like… like I’ve ended my safe and peaceful time in Wakanda and now I’m back to face those evil snakes, those… those people who just want something to gnaw at.”

“We’ll get them.” Wanda promises. “For starters, I know who has information about Pepper and Rhodes.”

Tony perks up at that. “What? You do?”

She nods. “Yes. Yoshiko Ho, and the Russian Minister of Defence… Vladimir something. I forgot his last name. Yoshiko knows about Pepper, Vladimir knows about Rhodes.”

T’Challa practically beams. “Then we need to send news to Banner and Barnes.”

“James can’t get involved with the Russians,” Tony immediately counters. “You know that he can’t. Maybe Natasha can handle it.”

T’Challa studies Tony. “Or the both of them.”

Tony’s hands drop from his face and to his lap, revealing his reddened, bloodshot eyes. “… Or the both of them.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They're getting there!!! Hopefully nothing goes wrong!!!


	17. Sight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony finally trusts Wanda enough to help him see, even if it's just for a short period of time. Meanwhile, there is a new plan to bring back Pepper and Rhodey.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been sooo long since I updated, I'm so sorry! What a hectic few months in school!
> 
> Hope you guys like this chapter!

“Wanda,” Tony whispers. “Are you awake?”

Wanda stirs in bed before poking her head out from underneath the blanket. Her hair is a mess, flying in all directions. “Just a bit. Good morning.”

Tony gives her a small smile. “’Morning. What time is it?”

He can hear the shuffling of the bedsheets as Wanda pushes herself to sit up, running a hand through her hair and yawning. She glances at the clock. “Eight A.M. Have you been awake for a long time?”

“I think so,” Tony says, shoulders dropping. “I can never be sure of how much time passes nowadays. It’s always dark.”

Wanda doesn’t know how to respond. Instead, she looks around the room, noting T’Challa’s absence. “Where did T’Challa go?”

“I don’t know. I guess... he left before I woke up.”

“Oh. He must have been called to some conference or discussion. There’s been a lot going on since they accepted my request to rejoin the Accords two days ago.”

“Probably.”

They sit in silence for a few more minutes, as Wanda blinks the sleep out of her eyes. She turns to Tony, then, noticing how his fingers are fidgeting around the handle of his cane. The worry ebbing out of his mind is overwhelming––she does not need to concentrate on him to feel it. “You’re worried," she notes.

“You can feel it.” 

“I think anyone could feel it, mind powers or not.” She says. “Are you worried about Rogers? Banner and Barnes?”

Tony nods, exhaling shakily. “James going back to the Russians… Bruce is going to Ross’s men, the people who hurt him before. Maybe… Maybe we can just work with SHIELD. We don’t need James and Bruce to do this. Just… just a standard SHIELD extraction mission, that’s all we need.”

“You’re right. It does seem too big of a risk to send them in.” Wanda agrees. “Why not send Natasha and Clint with them? When they return with Rhodey and Pepper, then they will have proof that they want to be back for good.”

“Yeah, exactly. But if Bruce and James go, then… what if they get caught? How are we going to make the government believe that they were undercover without revealing that T’Challa had been hosting all of us in Wakanda? It’s too risky.”

Wanda hums in agreement. “You should tell them. Before Rogers makes his big move today.”

Rogers.

Tony inhales sharply.

Steve would be coming back today. Apologizing publically.

What if it doesn’t go well? What if Tony can’t handle the flashbacks? What if––

He shuts his eyes tightly, and focuses on his breathing.

It’s going to work out.

 

* * *

 

Around half an hour later, when Wanda returns from the shower, Tony speaks up.

“Hey, I, uh… Is it true that you can help me see what’s around me if you… use your powers for a bit?”

Wanda’s eyes widen slightly, surprised by Tony’s question. She walks over to her nightstand, grabbing the hairbrush and running it through her tangled hair. Then she says, “Yes.”

“Can you… do it?”

Wanda’s hand freezes, the comb positioned halfway down the locks of her hair. “You mean now?”

Tony breathes out slowly, and nods.

Wanda’s eyes travel to her feet, and she continues brushing her hair. Tony trust her enough to ask her to invade his mind and input images from what surrounds them?

She is touched.

And surprised.

“I… you won’t be seeing from your own perspective,” she tries to explain. “It’s more that I will be sending visuals of what I see in this room to you.”

“But you can show me other images you remember, too?”

“I guess.”

“Can you do it?”

Wanda licks her drying lips, and sets down the hairbrush. She inhales deeply, stepping closer to Tony and sitting down next to him on his bed. “You trust me?”

She can feel hesitation in his answer. “Yes.”

“I don’t want to do this against your will.”

Tony nods.

Wanda doesn’t understand why she’s so nervous––she’s performed this many times before. But she doesn’t want to lose Tony’s trust. She doesn’t want to scare him, to invade his privacy again. So she carefully maneuvers her hands to bring out the magic, and sends it his way, her eyes flashing red and his following suit.

“What do you want to see?”

Tony’s eyes are wide. Unseeing, but stable.

“Everything,” he breathes out. “The room. The skies. Wakanda.”

Wanda obliges, attempting to send him the best images that she can. Some of her memories come in continuous motion, as opposed to snapshots. More like videos, she supposes, complete with the voices and audio.

Tony’s body begins to tremble.

“That’s Wakanda?”

It’s so… green. It’s more green, even in autumn––unlike the gradients of orange and red that Tony had so keenly imagined. He sees the waterfall, towering over the city and pouring into the seawater below. The statue of the black panther stands tall before it, strong and empowering.

Tony can hear the birds chirping in the background, a sound he so strongly remembers. A sound he had learned to love. But with the scenery…

“It’s beautiful.”

Wanda smiles.

She shows him the room they’re in, then. As she moves her head, the images in his mind move along with her line of sight. The city is visible from the window in the room, the curtains partly pushed back. Some of the sunlight is streaming in, and then Tony can see…

Tony can see himself as Wanda turns her gaze back to him.

He subconsciously holds his breath, a little shocked by his appearance. His hair is tussled. His eyes are red rimmed. His beard is already beginning to grow out into a mess, despite the Wakandan barbers having trimmed it just a few days back. The bags under his eyes are dark and vivid, and he looks…

He looks…

“I’m sorry,” Wanda says, breaking the connection. “I…” She hadn’t realized that Tony would be seeing himself––only when she felt the sudden surge of sadness and anger did she realize where she had been looking, and remembered that Tony could see himself too.

Tony is still trembling, his eyes having returned to their unfocused, frantically moving state. He gulps loudly, resting his palms back on the bed almost as if to stabilize himself from falling backwards.

“Thank you,” he murmurs.

Wanda doesn’t respond. Her hand is hovering above his shoulder, unsure of whether or not she should attempt to comfort him. Why was he trembling so much?

“Wakanda is beautiful.” Tony continues. “And so is this room. And I look like shit.”

“You look better than you did when I first saw you in Wakanda,” Wanda teases, attempting to draw a chuckle out of him. It works. “But… you’re shaking. Are you alright? Did I…”

“I’m fine.” Tony reassures her. “I just… I haven’t seen anything new in months. The last… the last images of all you guys weren’t exactly the most pleasant in my head. Wakanda was purely in my imagination…”

“Well, if you feel well enough to do it again, don’t hesitate to ask.” Wanda says. “But you will need to rest before then. It looks like it’s taken a toll on you.”

Tony nods. Then he brings his arms forward, letting himself fall back onto the bed. Wanda is up immediately, worried, but then Tony starts laughing.

He’s laughing.

“Wakanda is beautiful,” he repeats.

The laughter soon turns into quiet sobs.

 

* * *

 

“You’re staying here.”

“What?” Bucky asks defensively. “Get out of my way, Barton.”

“Both of you are staying.” Natasha adds, nodding at Bruce. “Clint and I will take care of this. We’ve got SHIELD and the government behind our back. We got this.”

“But I can’t just stay here and do nothing––”

“So you’d rather hand yourself over to the enemy who could very well reprogram you into the Winter Soldier? I don’t presume that would be much help. It was a risky idea to begin with, none of us were on board. But Stark and Maximoff suggested that SHIELD goes, and that we hop along, and General Talbot agreed. It’s safer, it’s more efficient, saves us trouble.”

Bucky’s jaw clenches. He wants to help. “I caused this, I should––”

“You didn’t cause anything.” Natasha interrupts. “This is about the Accords. Once Steve apologizes, once we’re back in the clear, then so are you. Your innocence won’t be hard to prove, James. We have Zemo in custody, we’re hunting down Ross… Don’t worry. And don’t blame yourself.”

“Bruce…?” Bucky turns to Bruce, hoping to have some support. But Bruce, too, knows that there will be no point in arguing the decision. It’s the safest option.

Bruce just shrugs, giving an apologetic smile.

Bucky rolls his eyes, stomping his way back into the mansion.

 

* * *

 

“You think I’m too weak,” Bucky accuses, without heat. “I could have handled it, Tony.”

Tony laughs. He’s returned the room to shower, and upon walking out found that he had received a clearly aggravated voicemail from James a few minutes earlier. So he’d called him back. “James, for Christ’s sake.”

“What? Imagine if they told you to stay back in Wakanda while everyone else cleared your name. You would have been infuriated.”

“Yes, because I need to be here for the Accords to be resolved. You don’t.”

Bucky huffs in annoyance.

“Just… just let it play out, okay, angry bird?”

“I guess I don’t have much of a choice.”

“No, you really don’t.” Tony says apologetically. “But you gotta trust me. Trust us. Steve is going to pop up any minute now. It’s going to be okay.”

“You really think so?”

Tony breathes out. “I don’t know. I hope so.”


	18. Apologies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve speaks up at the Accords. Finally.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters in less than a week! Can I get Kudos for that? lol.
> 
> Ahh, this is a big chapter. Steve finally speaks up!

The room floods with energy as soon as Steve Rogers walks in, clad in a tight-fitting button-up shirt and a pair of black jeans. He keeps his gaze focused on the ground, pushing past the reporters and bright flashing of the camera to find the seat he’d been assigned. A buzzing begins to sound in his ears, and he wants to push against it, irritated by the endless noise around him––it’s driving him nervous.

He walks up to the seat with his name tag on it, and pauses as his gaze travels up and finds Tony sitting down in the chair next to his.

Steve suddenly feels nauseous, wants to back away, but he’s being guided to get seated; hands are on his shoulders, his arm, his back. He wants to shake them off. He wants to hide.

 _I’ve been hiding long enough_ , he tells himself. _Can’t keep hiding forever_.

So he takes a deep breath and settles down in his assigned chair. Wanda, who is sitting on Tony’s other side, throws him a reassuring nod. He attempts to confidently smile back, but he’s not sure that it looks any more than a weak half-smile.

It takes a while before the meeting begins, as other world leaders and important personnel take their seats. Tony remains quiet, his large shades and long bangs covering the upper half of his face. Though it hides his expressions fairly well, Steve doesn’t miss the clenching of the jaw, the biting of the lip, the shaking of the leg… Tony is clearly nervous, too.

Steve wonders if Tony is aware of his presence. Wonders if Tony knows that they are to be seated next to each other. Wonders if Tony would be _okay_ sitting next to Steve while he opens up and talks about what happened.

Should Steve speak up before the conference begins? Should he attempt to reassure Tony? He doesn’t know. He doesn’t want to mess anything up, so he avoids saying anything at all. Stick to the plan.

“What a turnover of events,” one of the world leaders says. “A few days ago, we had Mr. Stark and Miss Maximoff showing up in this exact room. Now, after months of hiding, you come forth too, Mr. Rogers? What’s changed your minds suddenly, all of you?”

Wanda refrains from answering the question. She had already explained her end of the story, and now it is up to Steve to play his role. She feels bad, she truly does, for knowing that they are lying to the world about how they came to meet and how they had chosen to return. But… it’s all for the best, is it not? T’Challa had only fostered them to keep them safe. If they can return now, if they can prove that they are truly seeking change… Still. It feels terrible to know that the only way for them to return to their good, heroic lives is by having to _lie_.

She takes a deep breath, shaking away the worrisome thoughts, and shifts her focus back to Steve. 

“I’ve been…” Steve begins with a shaky voice. Wanda cracks her knuckles nervously, silently urging him on. “I’ve been thinking about what happened.”

He stops, and everyone else holds their breaths as they wait for him to continue.

“I was afraid of the Accords,” he admits. “I was afraid of Ross. I didn’t trust him. I didn’t feel that it would safe for us to be controlled as if we were just... weapons. We’re a team, we… We care about the citizens of the world; we want to help fight against bigger threats. I was afraid that the day would come where we would need to act, and we would be held back against our judgement.”

“So it seems you haven’t changed your opinion about the Accords?” The British Prime Minister asks, accusation lining her voice. “Have you returned only to tell us that you, once Captain America, have the best judgement and fear that the leaders of over a hundred countries on this globe will not have the wisdom to make proper decisions?” 

No, no… _God_ , no. He hadn’t meant to say that. Is that what it sounded like?

“You’re here to justify your actions, Mr. Rogers?” A Chinese spokesperson adds. “I cannot accept having you sit here and demand forgiveness without acknowledging that you’ve committed a crime against both national and international organizations.”

“No, that’s not…” Steve fumbles, sitting straighter up in his chair. “Please, let me finish. I was wrong for thinking that my judgement, my agenda, was more important than that of over a hundred countries. I was wrong for not listening to T––to Mr. Stark when he came and asked to discuss the Accords. But I… but I wanted to be part of an organization that will not only give us their orders, but be willing to hear our concerns and ideas.”

“Then why did you not stay and voice your concerns, Mr. Rogers? Why run? Why _fight_?”

Another person mutters, “Yeah… look at Stark now.”

Wanda’s heart begins to race. They are not letting him off easy. 

“Mr. Rogers,” T’Challa interrupts, hoping to remind Steve of what he should be saying. “What you made you decide to come back _now_ and discuss the Accords?”

Steve gulps, licking his rapidly drying lips. Right. He’d come because he’d seen Wanda and Tony on the screens.

 _Tell them how you really feel_ , he thinks. _You don’t have to lie. You don’t have to act. You’re sorry. Just say it._

“I’m sorry.” He says, his voice wavering. “I’m sorry. I should have stayed and discussed the Accords. That’s what Tony was trying to do, I _know_. But––my brain was clouded. After everything with Hydra, I felt that I couldn’t trust a system like that, not again,” he shuts his eyes. “And I was a coward for running away, for not facing the threat I deemed was present––Ross.”

He hears a few murmurs in response, discussing his words. He continues. “And I ran. I stayed in hiding. I was bitter and angry; I thought I was in the right. I thought that… I guess I thought it was all black and white. I was either under the bad guy’s control, or I was a completely free man. But… but then I saw Wanda and Tony on TV. I saw what I’d done to Tony.”

Flashbacks appear in his head; of him seeing Tony in Wakanda for the first time after Siberia, of him hearing Tony’s words about how he feared Steve, of seeing how much he had _hurt_ Tony…

“And I couldn’t take it. I… It’s not what I wanted. I never wanted to hurt anyone. I didn’t know what I’d done to Tony, I swear it. I had… I had wrongly assumed that he’d just made it back here, safe and sound, until I saw him. Until I saw what my blind rage had caused.”

He glances at Tony, unsure of what to expect from the other man. But Tony’s expression doesn’t seem to have changed––save from the fact that his knuckles are becoming white from wrapping so tightly around the handle of the cane.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats, in a voice closer to a whisper. Then he clears his throat, and turns back towards the council. “Wanda’s speech touched me, too. When she spoke of how she wanted to be a hero, that she did not want to be a criminal in hiding. I felt the same. And when you gave her the chance to sign a modified version of the Accords––I guess it finally clicked in that I could negotiate and voice my ideas and concerns.”

“I’m glad to hear you say that, Mr. Rogers,” T’Challa says, with kindness in his eyes.

The Malaysian Prime Minister adds, “I know that the Accords did not start off on a very good note, but… We are all sensible, smart adults. We have a common goal––to keep the world _and_ our heroes safe. Yes, maybe we wonder why did Mr. Rogers not speak up any earlier? But… what will that change now? The past is the past. What matters, I think, is that he and Miss Maximoff have come forward seeking forgiveness, seeking change. The Accords are not meant to be a prison. They are meant to be dynamic documents.” 

Steve smiles, his shoulders falling in relief. Before he can voice his thanks, however, the Russian Wanda had mentioned––Vladimir––speaks up.

“And what of the Winter Solider? You forgot your crime? You broke him out. You pushed him into hiding when he was being sought for crimes. Where is _he_?”

Steve pales.

Tony speaks up instead, surprising everyone. “As far as I understood, Zemo has been brought in and has confessed to his crimes and to framing the Winter Solider for them. The psychiatrist had also confirmed that the man––James Barnes––was heavily brainwashed and had suffered great brain damage and memory loss.”

“You’re defending Rogers,” Vladimir spits out.

“I’m not. I’m defending James Barnes, because despite whatever differences I had with Rogers, I came to understand that his friend could not be blamed for crimes he can’t answer to. I admit, I initially wanted to blame him, too. But there’s nothing under the law that you can use to declare him a criminal.”

More chatter erupts. More cameras flash.

“Mr. Rogers, what have you to say to that?” Another councilwoman asks amid the chatter.

“I agree with Mr. Stark,” Steve says, finding some strength in his voice. “Bucky––Barnes was wrongly accused of crimes he hadn’t committed. He was falling victim to villain after villain and I… I wanted to keep him safe. I wanted to prove his innocence, but I felt…”

“You felt that running would be easier,” General Talbot says gently. “You were afraid that we wouldn’t listen. That we wouldn’t believe you until you got hold of the actual criminal and proved that Bucky wasn’t involved.”

“Yes. And again, I do owe you an apology for that. My behaviour was not proper.”

Talbot smiles.

After another hour of discussion, Steve signs the Accords.

And after explaining how he’d gotten them involved, the governments give Sam Wilson, Clint Barton, Scott Lang and Natasha Romanoff the chance to return and sign the Accords as well. 

 

* * *

 

“They did it,” Bucky says, grinning sheepishly. “They actually fucking did it! Bruce, we might be able to go back to the States. We might be able to live as––not friends, maybe, but at least as not-enemies. God, I’d had enough of these two idiots hating each other and me having to go to Tony secretly to avoid making Steve angry or whatever.”

Bruce chuckles.

“And Tony actually said that!” Bucky continues, grabbing a handful of popcorn. “He actually spoke up and defended me like that. Risky move, but he did it. I fucking love that guy.”

“Yes,” Bruce muses, “he did.”

 

* * *

 

Steve hugs Wanda as soon as they’re back in the private quarters.

“You did well,” she tells him, smiling broadly. “It feels almost surreal.” 

“It really does,” Steve murmurs in agreement. “I… We’re back.”

They pause for a few moments, then break out in laughter.

“You did good back there,” a new voice sounds, interrupting their laughter. It’s Tony, making his way over to them with the cane swaying ahead of him. A small smile is gracing his lips. “I hope you didn’t mind me speaking up about Barnes.”

“Are you kidding?” Wanda replies, despite the statement having been aimed for Steve. “When you spoke up, they couldn’t really argue––because you weren’t giving a biased statement, not really. If Steve had said that, and if Talbot didn’t pick up after you and save your ass, they would not have let it go so easy.”

“She’s right. Thank you, Tony. And…” Steve exhales slowly. “I’m sorry. I really am.”

“Yeah. S’okay,” Tony responds after a moment of hesitation, his smile wavering.

 But is it okay? Will _he_ be okay?

How he wished an apology could bring back his sight.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What did you think? I'm wrapping up the Accords fairly quick here because they've already struggled with it for the past like, 16 chapters and few months in the story. I want to fix it up so that I can focus on Tony's eyesight next (and Bucky's arm) without having so much team tension.


	19. Pent Up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am back.... ages later! I'm so sorry for not updating any sooner! Anyway, I'm trying to jump back in... I hope you enjoy this chapter x

**Previously:**

_Steve hugs Wanda as soon as they’re back in the private quarters._

 

_“You did well,” she tells him, smiling broadly. “It feels almost surreal.”_

 

_“It really does,” Steve murmurs in agreement. “I… We’re back.”_

 

_They pause for a few moments, then break out in laughter._

 

_“You did good back there,” a new voice sounds, interrupting their laughter. It’s Tony, making his way over to them with the cane swaying ahead of him. A small smile is gracing his lips. “I hope you didn’t mind me speaking up about Barnes.”_

 

_“Are you kidding?” Wanda replies, despite the statement having been aimed for Steve. “When you spoke up, they couldn’t really argue––because you weren’t giving a biased statement, not really. If Steve had said that, and if Talbot didn’t pick up after you and save your ass, they would not have let it go so easy.”_

 

_“She’s right. Thank you, Tony. And…” Steve exhales slowly. “I’m sorry. I really am.”_

 

_“Yeah. S’okay,” Tony responds after a moment of hesitation, his smile wavering._

 

_But is it okay? Will he be okay?_

 

_How he wished an apology could bring back his sight._

 

* * *

 

 

Natasha exhales slowly, checking that all of her weapons are concealed in the proper places. She had managed, with the help of SHIELD, to get a pass into Vladimir’s organization. She had limited legal access, of course, but she _was_ a spy, and she was going to find Rhodes. One way or another.

She slides her ID card across the small scanner next to the door. It flicks green, and the door clicks, unlocking. She pauses for a moment, rehearsing her plan, before pulling the door open and walking into the security room. 

The man lounging on the chair is smiling as he looks down at his phone, amused by whatever he was browsing. Not very good at his job, it seems, considering all he has to do is keep an eye out on the security footage surrounding him. When he doesn’t acknowledge Natasha’s presence, she clears her throat, seizing his attention. “Mr. Smirnov?” She asks sweetly, lacing her voice with a light Russian accent. “I am Anastasia Vasiliev, next on duty. I know I’ve arrived a little early, but… I can start a little early.”

Smirnov smiles at her, straightening his posture. “Hello,” he says with his own heavy accent. “Miss Vasiliev, I’m afraid I can’t leave my shift early. I get paid by the hour, and I’ll be missing a whole hour and a half if I leave now.”

Natasha raises an eyebrow, smirking. “Not if they don’t know that you’ve left.”

Smirnov is confused. “But you won’t get the pay.”

“Consider it an act of kindness. I’m bored, I’m here. I got nothing else to do. Maybe you could… buy me lunch sometime, repay me.”

“Heh, well, what an offer.” Smirnov grins. He stands up, grabbing his jacket and a few of his belongings, and walks to the door. Before he steps out, he says, “Not an offer I can refuse, surely. Thank you, Miss Vasiliev… Anastasia. Best lunch coming your way soon.”

“Looking forward to it,” Natasha called out as he left.

Then she rolled her eyes. She took off her jacket, tied up her hair, and took a seat before pulling out the notebook from her purse. Watching the security feed should give her enough information to map out the place… in case Rhodey is actually being hidden here. Once she makes a rough plan of the layout, she inserts a USB into the system and presses into her comms. “May,” she says. “I’ve inserted the USB. Can you scour any old files for footage of Rhodes?”

“On it,” Melinda says. Fitz’s voice sounds behind her, already getting onto work. 

“Thanks. I’m going to step out for a minute. I think I should try to search Vladimir’s office.”

“That’s a little risky,” May notes. 

“Well, if anything happens, Smirnov was the one who sent me before he ran away, leaving shift too early.” Natasha says with a small smile. “Am I right?”

Melinda chuckles. “Poor guy.”

“Poor guy,” Natasha agrees, slipping on a fake pair of glasses and covering her hair with a cap. 

 

* * *

 

_Two Days Later_

 

“Clint, any news?”

They can hear his heavy breathing, but he hasn’t really said anything in… almost an hour now. They were beginning to grow worried.

“Shh,” he instructs in a whisper. “Doing some spying in the vents. I think I’m _real_ close to Pepper. Please tell me Natasha hasn’t found Rhodes yet? I bet her that I’d find Pepper first.” He paused. “Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. I mean, I hope she finds Rhodes quickly, but––”

“We get it, Clint,” May says with an eye roll. “No, she hasn’t found him yet, but she’s getting to work. Seems she has to do more work than you, though, so her finding him later would be more than justified. In any case, keep updating us, yeah?”

“Aye aye, Captain.”

 

* * *

 

 

Tony moves the plate around in his place, not quite feeling hungry. It has been five days since Steve’s public apology, and modified versions of the Accords were already getting sent to the other Avengers. Scott hadn’t needed much motivation to sign––as long as it allowed him to preserve his identity and to stay low, he was all for it. Sam, too, signed his right away. Bruce modified his a few times, and has still not quite found a copy that he can sign for good.

Natasha and Clint are preoccupied with their current missions, so they haven’t exactly had the time to focus on the Accords. 

But Tony wonders about Barnes.

Shouldn’t he get his own copy of the Accords, too?

He’s a little… scared. To ask Steve, that is. Last time he asked Steve to recruit Bucky into their team, it hadn’t gone so well. Sure, things were a bit different now, but it didn’t mean that Steve would trust Tony that easily, or that he would be okay with Bucky being signed under the Accords.

Tony thinks it will make Barnes safer, to be legally registered as a hero. Steve might see it as imprisoning him into a role he may not want to take part of just yet.

“Tony? You alright?” Steve asks in a small voice, drawing Tony’s attention.

Tony’s eyes move to where he approximates Steve is located, and nods weakly. He sticks his fork into the piece of lettuce when he thinks he has it, and shoves it in his mouth. He must look ungraceful, but who cares? They’re probably used to Tony looking like a mess by now.

They’re probably used to Tony being blind, too. To Tony being… different.

“Do you want some gingerale?” Wanda offers.

Tony shakes his head. 

They eat in silence again, and Tony can feel their gazes falling to him. They must be having a silent conversation with their facial expressions, because he can feel them shifting and huffing. A conversation Tony can’t participate in, because he can’t fucking _see it_.

Okay. Most days, Tony doesn’t let his disability hinder him, or anger him, or whatever. But some days, it just… gets overwhelming. When they don’t have anything immediate to work on, to distract them, the others seem to focus much more on Tony. They treat him like he’s a lot more fragile––which maybe he _is_ , but still––and it suffocates him at times. 

Like now.

“Tony, you’ve barely eaten anything. What’s on your mind?” Steve asks again.

Tony hates how friendly he sounds.

So he signed the modified Accords. So the Avengers are coming back. So Barnes has been excused. Does this erase everything? Does this erase all the shit that’s happened in the past few months?

Everything is amazing now, isn’t it? It’s all going well, it’s all falling into place. Tony should be ecstatic! And sometimes––he is! 

But other times, the questions keep nagging at the back of his mind.

_What are_ you _going to do? You can’t build new tech. You can’t be an Avenger._

_What are you going to do?_

_They’ve all found their place. Where’s yours?_

_What if Pepper and Rhodey don’t come back?_

_What if they do, but they hate you?_

_What if ––_

He exhales shakily, aggravated by his line of thoughts. This isn’t about him. It’s about the Avengers, it’s about the superheroes, it’s about Barnes. It’s about the world governments finding an alliance with the American heroes. 

It’s not about Tony feeling like a cripple and worrying about his future.

It’s not about Tony feeling like a piece that’s currently being used in this game only to be disposed once he’s no longer of use.

“Hey,” Wanda says, and suddenly her hand on his arm, and he didn’t _expect_ it, and he flinches… Wanda draws away immediately. “Rough day?”

“Rough day,” he croaks. 

Steve sends Wanda a puzzled look. “What’s going on?”

Wanda shrugs, turning back to her plate. 

“Tony, you can talk to us.” Steve adds.

Tony sets his fork down, bringing his hand up to rub at his temple. He hated this. He hated how Rogers reverted back to the man who was once Tony’s friend, the man that Tony once believed in and _trusted_. 

The man that betrayed that trust. That friendship.

The man that had looked down at Tony and spat at him in disgust. 

The man that had blinded him.

Is he being selfish, for still being so angry? Tony is not sure he cares anymore. He tries to push away this feeling, and most of the time, he succeeds. He’s been getting along with Rogers just fine for the past few days. 

But all he can see is the image of Rogers bringing down the shield, hard, and hitting his chest, again and again, with anger and disgust and hatred in his eyes…

“Just let it go, Rogers,” he grounds out. “I’m fine.”

“Did someone say anything that upset you?” Steve asks with concern. “You look upset. Really upset. If something’s come up––”

“Nothing’s _come up_!” Tony exclaims, standing up abruptly. The chair topples back, and Tony loses his footing for a moment before he leans against the table. Well, that was a little too dramatic. He inhales sharply. “Nothing’s come up. I know, everything is going well, I should be very happy and I’m _sorry_ for not feeling ecstatic all the time, but sometimes, this––” he vaguely gestures around his face “––gets to me. We’re fixing everything. It’s great, really is. But I can’t fix this. I can’t fix my _eyes_ , Rogers, and I’m _sorry_ that it sometimes _gets to me_. The perfect soldier should never be brought down by a nuisance or a disability. I know that, I know! I heard it from Howard a thousand times before I heard it from you. But just… let it go, okay? I’m having an off day. Fuck it. I hate being fucking blind. I hate it. Don’t worry, though––it’s nothing that affects you or the Accords or Barnes, so _let it go_.”

Steve pales.

Wanda bites at her lip. “Tony, I’m sure Steve didn’t mean that…”

Tony shuts his eyes. Not that it makes a difference, really. “Look. I just… Can we not do this today? You’re right, Steve probably didn’t mean that. But my brain is just being a bit of an asshole, so… I think I’m just going to go hang out in my room for a while.”

He unfolds his cane, feeling around the ground to avoid tripping over the fallen chair. He makes his way out of the dining room and back out to the hallway, where he waits for the elevator to take him back upstairs.

The elevator dings, announcing that he’s going up, and Tony walks in. 

He feels around the touch pad, trying to figure out how they’ve set up the numbering for the floors, and tries his best guess at where the 12 will be located.

“Going to the twelfth floor, Mr. Stark?” A strange voice says. He must have been in the elevator when Tony walked in.

“Yes,” Tony confirms, attempting a polite smile.

“Well, just wanted to make sure. I was afraid that you’d take yourself to the wrong floor. Don’t want you getting lost around the place, might embarrass yourself. If you want, I can guide you to your room once we reach your floor.”

Tony swallows, his heart rate speeding up.

Welcome to America.

He’s getting the comments he’d feared for months.

“No, thank you. I can navigate just fine.”

The elevator doors close.

The man hums mockingly. “Whatever you say. Hey, by the way… Have you decided what you’ll be doing with Stark Industries? Lots of people are interested in buying the company now, and seeing as you have no heir to take over the family business… are you considering?”

Tony tenses. “I’m not too focused on that right now.”

“Maybe you should focus on it. Without you or Miss Potts, the business is collapsing pretty badly. And I don’t think you can waltz in this time with a magnificent new robotic invention to save the sales.” _You can’t build anything when you’re blind_ , goes unsaid.

Tony’s jaw clenches. “I’ll figure it out, Mr….?”

“Name’s unimportant,” the man chuckles. “Not when you won’t remember the face anyway.”

The elevator dings. _Tenth floor_.

“Well, that’s my stop. Good luck, Tony.”

_Fuck. You._ Tony thinks as the doors slide shut again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> that asshole though??


	20. A Shoulder to Cry On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More fix it and a lot of feelings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for Tony having very sad thoughts. Otherwise, I hope you enjoy!

**Previously:**

_The man hums mockingly. “Whatever you say. Hey, by the way… Have you decided what you’ll be doing with Stark Industries? Lots of people are interested in buying the company now, and seeing as you have no heir to take over the family business… are you considering?”_

_Tony tenses. “I’m not too focused on that right now.”_

_“Maybe you should focus on it. Without you or Miss Potts, the business is collapsing pretty badly. And I don’t think you can waltz in this time with a magnificent new robotic invention to save the sales.” You can’t build anything when you’re blind, goes unsaid._

_Tony’s jaw clenches. “I’ll figure it out, Mr….?”_

_“Name’s unimportant,” the man chuckles. “Not when you won’t remember the face anyway.”_

 

* * *

 

_Who was that guy?_ Tony thinks as he settles down into bed. He sounded strange, yet oddly… familiar. It wasn’t exactly just his voice––something about the way he spoke, calm yet condescending, that felt all too familiar. 

But then again, Tony had spoken to thousands of people and businessmen in his lifetime. A familiar voice would indicate nothing if he can’t recognize their face, anyway. Just like the man had said. 

Tony grits his teeth. Where had that come from? He’d been looking to escape his meal with Wanda and Steve to get his thoughts off of the Accords and his pathetic thoughts about the future, and now he was reminded that Stark Industries was failing, too. Great. Because it’s not enough that Tony Stark fucked up the Avengers. 

Fixing the Avengers would be nothing compared to fixing Stark Industries. At least T’Challa, Bucky and Wanda had helped. Then Steve had finally come forth, and they tried to work together to move on, to fix whatever was left of the team. 

Stark Industries? That was all on Tony. If he could no longer create new tech for the company, then he could no longer _be_ part of the company. He cannot even be a CEO or manager, not when he can’t see any of the designs and blueprints––he won’t even be able to provide feedback. 

It was over.

The one thing Tony had dedicated his life to, the one thing Tony had always found comfort in, was… gone.

Just like that.

A heaviness crashed down on him, and Tony fell forward onto the bed, nuzzling his face into the fluffy pillow. He held it tight, his knuckles whitening at his grip. He lay there, barely able to inhale, then letting out shaky exhales.

His life is gone. It’s _done_. 

Once the Accords are sorted, once Rhodey and Pepper return, Tony’s purpose will be served. He will no longer be needed.

Tony doesn’t know how to live a life without having a purpose. Without being _used_.

It’s pathetic, and he knows it, but it’s the truth. His father had used him to keep the family business alive. Obadiah had used him to create weapons that he sold to terrorists, to enemies, behind Tony’s back. The Avengers had used him for tech and monetary support. Now they were using him to regain their freedom and to get another chance at life.

Pepper and Rhodey were the only two people who never used Tony.

But being around him had already brought them so much harm… so much… 

Tony let out a broken sob. 

He _wouldn’t_ let them get hurt because of him. Not again. He’d been selfish his whole life––asking them to stay by his side, allowing them to brush aside their own safety just to help him. But he couldn’t do that anymore. They deserved to be safe, they deserved to live a life free of Tony’s bullshit. 

He is going to stop being selfish, and he is going to let them go––once they’re home safe.

With the thought repeating in his mind, Tony soon falls asleep.

 

* * *

 

“Did I say something wrong?” Steve asks, furrowing his eyebrows. He sets down his fork, his appetite subsiding. 

Wanda sighs. “You blinded him.”

“But that was––but we––I apologized––I thought he––” 

“You thought he forgave you. I think he did.” Wanda says, matter-of-factly. “But, Steve… Even if he rationally knows you’ve apologized, and that we’re working to fix all of this… He’s still blind.”

Steve gulps.

“I think he’s being _Tony_. From what I understand about him, he likes to focus on the job, brushes aside his injuries in the process. This is the man that flew a nuke into space fully thinking he wouldn’t make it out alive. This is a man who built a robot to protect us from whatever he saw in that wormhole––wasn’t a smart decision, but… I saw it. I saw what he feared, and I played onto it. I amplified his fear. And yet, he got back and up apologized and tried to sign the Accords so he could be responsible for his mistakes. He was hurt, terrified––I always felt it on him. He lived in constant fear of… everything. It was hard for _me_ to feel.”

Steve watches Wanda formulate her thoughts. She is going on a tangent, but this is something she had never really opened up about––not to him, at least. He nods, encouraging her to continue.

“And now his fear is returning. Odd as it may seem, he was a lot more relaxed in Wakanda. He was scared, but he felt safe. I think he liked being in solitude for a while, speaking only to whom he chooses and feels comfortable with. But now… we’re back here. Camera clicking and flashes, reporters screaming, papparazi… government officials, businessmen, all crowded around him, judging and nitpicking. It’s spiked his fear. I can feel it even when I don’t focus on him, that’s how bad it’s gotten. He’s afraid. He can’t see anyone, he doesn’t know who’s around him, doesn’t know where he’s being taken… He’s just here, getting dragged along for our sake, to fix our fugitive status and bring us back as heroes. And him? He’s still blind. Fixing the Accords won’t fix that, Steve. Apologizing won’t fix that.”

Steve shuts his eyes. A tear falls down his cheek, and he shakes his head. 

“I don’t know what to do.”

“Me neither.”

“It…. It must be terrifying. I mean I was confused and afraid when I woke up seventy years later, unable to recognize anyone or anything. I reckon he must be going through something similar.”

“Arguably worse. You froze because you chose to plunge into the glacier. Tony is blind because his friends did it to him. You got to adapt, you remained a hero even in this century, and Tony?” Wanda shakes her head. “I know you mean well, Steve. But every time you speak to him like nothing’s changed, like you’re still the same friends, he feels hurt. Afraid. Just… let him take his time. He’s trying. He’s really trying.”

“It doesn’t mean that everything’s gone back to normal.” Steve concludes.

Wanda nods. She reaches out, placing her hand overtop his. “But we will get through this. All of us. Bucky will be back with us soon, Pepper and Rhodey as well. We just need to give it time. We all need time to heal.”

“Thank you, Wanda.” Steve whispers, his voice cracking.

 

* * *

 

“Tony!” 

Tony groans, shifting around in the bed. 

“Tony, wake up!”

Tony raises his head, letting out another groan at how heavy it feels. His growing hair is falling over his eyes, and he has to brush it out of his eyes as he blinks them open. “Wha?”

Wanda is standing over him, a wide grin plastered over her face. Steve is close behind, a similar expression colouring his features. Tony narrows his eyes, puzzled.

Wanda takes a seat on the bed by his side and reaches out, hand resting over Tony’s waist. “Tony! We have good news.”

Tony gives her a small smile. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. Pepper and Rhodey. Clint and Natasha found them in the same place. Different people took them but they sent them back to the same hideout. They got them out, Tony. Pepper and Rhodey are back in Wakanda.”

Tony shoots up to a sitting position. His unfocused eyes widen, and his lips part as he gapes at Wanda.

“What?”

“Rhodey and Pepper. They’re safe.”

Tony’s jaw falls. His eyes travel around the room, as though searching for something, before landing back in Wanda’s general direction. “Rhodey? And Pepper? They’re safe?”

Wanda takes Tony’s hand. “Yes. Yes they are. The government’s been notified. They now have proof of who was working with Ross behind their backs. Once things are more settled, they’ll come here. All of them––Natasha and Clint will finally sign the Accords. Bucky, too. And Banner. Everyone will be back.”

Steve crosses his arms, watching the exchange with a genuine smile. It was quite of turn of events––one moment they were feeling down and the next T’Challa walks in bearing the news. 

So Steve is…. well, he’s confused when Tony starts crying.

Wanda glances back at him before turning to Tony. “Hey… What’s wrong?”

“I just…” Tony smiles, breaking out into another sob. “They’re… Pepper…” He shuts his eyes, his mouth widening into a grin, but the sobbing continues. “She’s… Rhodey? I…” His head falls forward, and his shoulders begin to shake with the force of his crying. “I just…”

“What’s going on?” Steve whispers.

Wanda gulps, shaking her head. She watches Tony with a concerned look. “Happy tears?” She guesses.

Tony can only continue to sob, letting out words that neither of the other Avengers can quite make out. The smile eventually falls off his face.

Steve inhales slowly, stepping forward so that he’s between where Wanda and Tony sit on the bed. Wanda shifts back, giving him room to sit, and he does. He watches Tony–– _Tony_ ––cry before him. 

This is Tony.

God, what have they done to him?

Steve clenches his jaw as he fights back the burning in his eyes. This is not a time for him to collapse––Tony needs him. Tony _needed_ him, all those years, and he’d… He reaches forward, pulling Tony into a tight embrace, and murmurs, “God, I’m so sorry, Tony.”

Tony doesn’t fight his embrace. Instead, he allows his face to rest on Steve’s shoulder, and he brings up his right hand to hold Steve’s arm. He can’t stop the tears, he can’t stop the fucking sobs, and Steve is holding him and he…

He needs a shoulder to cry on.

“Pepper and Rhodey are okay. They’re okay.” Steve continues. “They’ll be back soon. Everything will be back soon. We’re going to be okay, Tony. I promise.”

Tony sniffles. “You will be. You will be fine.” He rasps. “I’m done. I’ve s-served my… my purpose.”

Wanda gasps at the sudden gust of _pain_ that radiates from Tony. 

She doesn’t like it.

“Hey, what’s that supposed to mean?” Steve asks gently, pulling Tony in tighter.

“I’m… I’m done. You’re all… good now. All good.”

“Yeah, Tony, we’re good. And you deserve some rest. You can rest for as long as you need. But then we’ll need you to come back. The Avengers are nothing without you. I think we’ve all come to understand that very well.”

Tony shakes his head against Steve’s shoulder, then pulls back. Steve relaxes his hold on Tony. “Whoever the Avengers needed,” he whispers, sniffing, “I’m not that man anymore. I can’t be that man.”

“Maybe this isn’t the time.” Wanda intercedes. “We’re not even restarting the Avengers program for a while anyway. For now let’s just… celebrate that Rhodey and Pepper are back. What do you think?”

Tony runs the back of his hand across his eyes, wiping away the tears. He nods, a smile gracing his face once again. “Can I talk to them?”

“I would think so.” Steve replies. “Why don’t we go find T’Challa? He can probably put them through so you can talk to them.”

Tony nods again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> jshghajkjdchhjad what did you think?


	21. Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony speaks to Pepper and Rhodey... and Bucky prepares for his trial.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's been an influx of comments and kudos on this fic lately, and a wonderful artist drew Tony inspired by this fic.... and what can I say? You guys re-ignited my love for a story I'd nearly forgotten about, with all the stuff that's been happening in my life. But as we near the end of the story, I'm wishing you guys to have a fun time reading this chapter, and hopefully you'll enjoy it xx

**Previously:**

_Tony shakes his head against Steve’s shoulder, then pulls back. Steve relaxes his hold on Tony. “Whoever the Avengers needed,” he whispers, sniffing, “I’m not that man anymore. I can’t be that man.”_

_“Maybe this isn’t the time.” Wanda intercedes. “We’re not even restarting the Avengers program for a while anyway. For now let’s just… celebrate that Rhodey and Pepper are back. What do you think?”_

_Tony runs the back of his hand across his eyes, wiping away the tears. He nods, a smile gracing his face once again. “Can I talk to them?”_

_“I would think so.” Steve replies. “Why don’t we go find T’Challa? He can probably put them through so you can talk to them.”_

_Tony nods again._

 

* * *

 

“Hello?”

The other side of the line remains silent.

“Hello? Tony, can you hear me?”

Tony has to gulp back against the lump forming in his throat. Pepper is safe. She’s _safe_. She had been hurt again, kidnapped again, because of him. She had gotten dragged into his political problems _again_. But she’s safe; the Avengers had found her. They’d saved her. And here she was, her voice gentle as ever, speaking to him on the line.

Tony clears his throat. “Pepper.” He manages to rasp. He clears his throat again. “Pepper. Are you alright? How are you––how are you holding up? I’m so sorry, God, I’m––you got dragged into all of this again and––I couldn’t even do anything to help you, Pep, I couldn’t even _do_ anything––” His voice cracks, and he lets out a small breath. “But you’re back. Strong as ever, am I right? The strongest woman I know. The strongest _person_ I know. You made it. God, I thought… I thought you would…”

Pepper smiles on the other end, holding the phone closer to her ear. “I’m fine, Tony. I’m fine. You said it yourself––strongest person on this planet.” She lets out a soft giggle, allowing it to rise above the fear and pain. “I survived Extremis. I can survive anything. But you know, there were a few circumstances where I wished I still had Extremis. Could have proven useful when those assholes tried to––” she stopped, inhaling deeply. “I, uh… Anyway. I’m alright, Tony. I’ll be fine. How are _you_ holding up? Back in the States?”

Tony let out a humourless laugh. “I’m doing great, Pep.”

Pepper remained silent.

She could read right through him––even if he were not standing before her.

“Tony––”

“Pepper––”

“You’re _not_ okay, and––”

“I’m doing _just fine––_ ”

“––you’re allowed to be not okay, you know that, right?”

“––and everything is going according to plan here and we are doing fine. Fine! We’re doing fine. We’re great!”

“You’re doing _great_? You don’t have to lie to me––”

“You’re ALIVE Pepper! You and Rhodey are _alive_.” Tony exclaims, his voice shaking. “Of course I’m doing great because I know that you two are _ALIVE_! None of this is about me, okay? I’ll hold up just fine. I can handle all of this! My sight, the Accords, the media… I can handle all of it. But I could _never_ be able to handle losing you or Rhodey or––or losing you because of _my_ enemies going after you! So yes, I’m fine. _I am just fine_. As long as you’re good, I’ll be good. So just… just promise me that you’re alright. Promise me.”

Pepper closes her eyes, leaning her head back. 

“I’m alright, Tony. I promise.”

“You don’t have to lie to me, either. You know that?”

Pepper shakes her head, biting her lower lip as she fought back tears. “It was… it was hard, Tony. When they took me, I mean. They were, uh… they were big men. They put a cloth over my head and tackled me and took to some sort of vehicle… and then I was on a plane or helicopter or whatever it was and I was being taken to God knows where. And I knew you wouldn’t be able to come.” She breaks out into a soft sob, placing a hand over her mouth. “I knew––I knew you wouldn’t be able to come save me this time. And I was scared. I was afraid that if you couldn’t come then… then no one else would. But I kept imagining you storming in, in your Iron Man suit with some… some magical new technology that you’d developed to help your sight. And you could see again and you came for me again and we would get out together and be––be fine. As fine as our lives can get. But you never came. And I _knew_ you couldn’t, but I couldn’t help but think…”

“I’m sorry,” Tony whispers, freezing in his position. “I’m sorry, Pep…”

“And it’s not your fault. It wasn’t. None of this was. It wasn’t your fault that Ross was an asshole who betrayed global relations, or that Steve was so angry at you that he left you blinded in a cave or that you couldn’t get your sight back in time to come save me. It’s not your fault, Tony. A lot of things were your fault, but this wasn’t. None of it was.”

_Maybe all of it was_ , Tony thinks.

“I love you.” Pepper murmurs. “I love you, Tony. And I’ll be alright. We can do this. We can do this, right?”

“Of course we can.” Tony reassures her with false confidence.

Pepper sighs, forcing a small smile.

 

* * *

 

“And then this guy had the audacity to say that War Machine was never useful. God, who says that?” Rhodey continues to rant. 

“Apparently the same guy who kidnapped War Machine.”

“No, he kidnapped James Rhodes, who could not exactly defend himself when he wasn’t wearing his special equipment to help him move. If I had my support equipment on, I would have kicked his ass. But that asshole takes advantage of a handicapped man when he’s not in top shape. Doesn’t exactly prove he’s good at his job.”

Tony smiles.“No, it doesn’t. It’s like if someone tried to kidnap me right now. A random kid on the street could probably do it. Doesn’t exactly show much competence on his behalf.”

“Yeah. What would be worse? Someone walking you to a trap because you can’t see it, or someone forcing you to a trap even though can see it––but you can do anything to get out of it?” Rhodey asks thoughtfully.

“I don’t know. The first one would make me feel like an idiot.”

“And the latter would make me feel helpless.” Rhodes whispers. “It _did_ make me feel helpless.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing.”

“I’m just––”

“You’re sorry. I get it. You know what, Tony? Saying sorry won’t change anything right now. And I don’t mean this in a bad way, necessarily, I’m just saying… look, shit happened. We made it out alive. More shit happened, we’re still alive. We’ve been blessed to come this far, Tones. Stop apologizing. We’re back now, that’s what matters.”

Tony doesn’t know how to respond.

Doesn’t know how to express just how _sorry_ he is.

“Hopefully we’ll see you guys in a few days?” He asks instead.

“A few days, Tony.”

“I’m still sorry.”

“…. I know.”

 

* * *

 

When Bucky walks into the common room alongside Steve, Tony can immediately recognize the sound of his footsteps. Hard to forget, when they were so goddamn heavy. It was like he was trying to break the floor with every step he took. 

“James,” he notes. “You’re back.”

Steve raises an eyebrow. How did Tony know…?

“My footsteps are still too heavy, aren’t they?” Bucky snorts, taking a seat next to Tony on the couch. “Look, stealth isn’t my strong suit. Even with Hydra. They always gave me those huge combat boots, and it made for strong landings but not very stealthy footsteps.” 

Steve crosses his arms, watching them. 

Interesting.

Tony rolls his eyes. “Yeah. You’re going to make me deaf, too, one day, if you keep walking that loud.”

“Shut up.” Bucky snaps without heat. He grins. “Good to see you again.”

“Good to hear your giant feet again.” Tony replies, a grin forming on his face as well. 

“It _fucking_ sucked staying in Wakanda while you guys had all the action, you know. But now I’m finally here, and I’m going to have my hearing tomorrow.” Bucky inhales sharply. “God, that’s going to be scary, isn’t it? Facing the world after all those years. Owning up to all the stuff I did.”

“It’s going to be fine, Buck.” Steve says with a kind smile. “It is scary, in a way, but… We have all the evidence we need to clear you. We just have to show everyone.”

“Yeah. That’s the scary part.”

“Rogers is right. You’re going to be fine.” Tony adds gently. “Just… just don’t go on a dumbass rampage like the Punisher. His trial was a _mess_ on live TV.” Tony says, rolling his eyes again. “Although, that would be quite a sight.”

“It’d make more headlines.”

“Definitely. You’ll make more headlines if you say you enjoyed beating me up in Siberia.”

Bucky nodding, humming quietly. “True.”

Steve narrows his eyes. “Really? This isn’t––it’s not funny.”

“Not to you, it isn’t.” Bucky says, shrugging. He throws Steve a small smile. “Relax, Steve. We’re just… doing our thing.”

“We’re coping.”

“Yeah. We’re coping.”

Steve frowns, concern washing over his features. “You guys––”

“Look, our coping involves a lot of self-deprecating humour. Kind of helps normalize all your issues so they don’t seem quite as overwhelming.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow. “It works.”

Steve lets out an amused laugh. “Okay. Uh… I never expected this… relationship. To be like this, anyway. But I’m glad you guys are…”

“Friends?” Bucky suggests.

“ _Best_ friends?”

“I was going to say I’m glad you’re coping.” Steve finishes. 

“Okay, I think we’re scaring him. We’re just playing you, Rogers.” Tony says, scoffing. He turns to Bucky. “But for real, are you feeling good for tomorrow? You should go over everything, all the evidence, all the possible questions and accusations they’ll throw at you…” 

Bucky nods. “I think so, yeah. I had a lot of practice while I was waiting in Wakanda.”

“Good. That’s good. How are you going to walk in?”

“What do you mean?”

“You can’t walk in looking all stoic or nervous or glaring daggers at everyone––you know that, right?”

“I, uh, I’m not sure. I didn’t really think that through, I was just going to walk in like I normally do––”

“With your resting bitchface and stomping feet? That won’t make a very good impression on anyone.”

“So what do you suggest?”

“Just be yourself. Be your happy self. Smile. Think of the good things from your old life, and the good things from your new life with Steve and everyone. There’s lots of great things to come, too. Think about that, and smile. You’re not the Winter Soldier. You’re not walking in there to show them the Winter Soldier.”

“I’m walking in to show them James Buchanan Barnes.” Bucky says slowly.

“Exactly.”

Steve nods, smiling. “That’s good advice.”

Tony sends a glance in his general direction, but does not respond. He turns back to Bucky. “Go over what happened with Zemo with me? In the facility?”

“He… used the code words that Hydra had used to trigger their training and throw me out of control.” 

“No, you can’t just say it like that.” Tony says, shaking his head. “Look, you need to make it sound less factual and more personal. How did you feel when he did that? What did it do to you?” 

 

* * *

 

Wanda and T’Challa share nervous glances, sending each other reassuring smiles as they wait for the security to bring Bucky into the room. Wanda then turns to Steve, whose face had significantly paled, and nods reassuringly. Steve nods back, unable to form a smile under his current state of worry.

Tony, meanwhile, is radiating anxiety.

Wanda places a hand on his thigh. “It will be alright, Tony. It will be alright. Pepper and Rhodey are going to be here soon, too, with Clint and Natasha. Bruce already signed the Accords this morning when he arrived. We are going to be alright. Relax.”

Tony inhales slowly. “Yeah. Yeah, of course.”

The entire hall is silent, anxiety hovering over everyone as they awaited the Winter Soldier to be brought in. 

Wanda can feel some of their thoughts: those who felt sympathy for him, and those who were so afraid of his presence they would nearly vomit. 

She licks her dry lips, her eyes never leaving the door.

When the doors open, everyone breaks out into questions, camera clicks, reporters yelling… And in the midst of it comes James Buchanan Barnes, with a nervous––almost shy––smile on his lips and looking down at his feet as he made his way through the crowds.

And there he stands. Facing the people he had been afraid to face ever since he was saved from Hydra.

He lets out a soft exhale, and takes a seat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry, I'm just such a sucker for Tony & Bucky being dorky friends. I need it, and MCU won't give it to me, so I'll give it to myself, right? 
> 
> Ahh! Bucky's trial is coming up. The whole team is back in USA now, and Pepper & Rhodey are all safe and rounded up. Everything is getting fixed, isn't it?
> 
> (Except for Tony. He's not getting fixed, is he?)


	22. A new beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything comes to an end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been almost 2 years since this fic started you guys!! But here I am, finally finished up and wrapping the fic. Thank you to everyone who took the time to read, subscribe and comment all this time. I really hope you enjoy this chapter xx

**Previously:**

_When the doors open, everyone breaks out into questions, camera clicks, reporters yelling… And in the midst of it comes James Buchanan Barnes, with a nervous––almost shy––smile on his lips and looking down at his feet as he made his way through the crowds._

_And there he stands. Facing the people he had been afraid to face ever since he was saved from Hydra._

_He lets out a soft exhale, and takes a seat._

 

* * *

 

The trial goes by on a whim. Bucky is primarily focused on telling his story––how every time he was aware enough of what he was doing, Hydra would put him back under. How he can never forget the faces of the people he murdered, though he could not remember having the will to commit any of the crimes he did. The guilt he constantly feels, even though none of what he did was by choice. He speaks of how Zemo took advantage of his past and used the trigger words on Bucky as though he were merely a murderous machine requiring a code to be activated, how Bucky felt _terrified_ when he began to hear the words.

When he’s finished telling his story, Bucky is met with a brief moment of silence that stretches on for what feels like a long time. Everyone is staring at him, their breaths caught in their throats, as they try to make sense of the man’s story. 

Bucky chews on his lips, suddenly growing nervous as the surge of confidence that had previously carried his story begins to disappear. 

The moment of judgement was coming.

He’s not quite sure that he’s ready for it.

Whispers begin to sound around the room, and conversations are picked up once again as the officials begin discussing Bucky’s situation. Bucky can do nothing but swallow heavily and stare at his handcuffed hands, waiting for the axe to drop.

If they let him go, if they pardon him, then it will be over. He will be able to go _home_ with Steve, he will be able to join the team––who is finally learning to become a team once again––and become one of them. He will be able to stay by Tony’s side whenever he wanted to. The Accords are, for the most part, solved. And once Bucky is pardoned, then they will be truly free.

Bucky cannot not even look up to glance around the room. He’s afraid of meeting Steve or Tony’s eyes––what if he said something wrong? What if he messed up the trial? What if he’s put everyone in jeopardy?

The discussion between the committee drags on for what feels, quite frankly, like hours. Bucky simply closes his eyes and focuses on evening his breathing. He can’t think about anything. He can’t do anything. All he can do is clench his hands tight and _wait_.

So he waits. 

And when the judge finally calls everyone to attention, Bucky keeps his eyes shut; He cannot even bring himself to look up at the judge while he passes the decision. Instead he lowers his head, trying his best to steady his shaking hands.

“We have come to the decision that James Buchanan Barnes is a victim of a much larger terrorist organization that took advantage of his life and his skill and used him to commit their crimes against his own will. It’s evident that Mr. Barnes does not condone his own actions and carries a heavy amount of guilt, and does not appear to relish in the murders he committed nor does he appear to have any intention of causing further troubles in the future. James Barnes was an honourable man who served in the United States army during the second world war, where he fought for the safety of his people, and was forced to become a murderer by what appear to be brainwashing and torture mechanisms to cause him to act against his will. 

Thus, we believe James Buchanan Barnes shall be pardoned for the crimes he committed as the titled Winter Soldier, who was a byproduct of Hydra’s malicious plans. We will keep Mr. Barnes under occasional supervision, however, and we will require him to attend specialized psychiatry sessions to ensure that he is not reverting to the Winter Soldier’s at any level. 

Do you hereby accept to undergo supervision and do you accept being appointed official, monitored help for your condition, Mr. Barnes?”

Bucky feels the air rushing out of his lungs. It takes him a few seconds to process what the judge had said, and that he had directed the question at him. Bucky slowly looks up, opening his eyes to watch the judge as she nodded towards him encouragingly. He cleared his throat, and did not hesitate to say: “Of course I accept the conditions, your honour.”

“Very good. Welcome back, Mr. Barnes.”

The room erupts with more flashing of the cameras and the screaming of the reporters as the security men approach Bucky and free him of his shackles.

 

* * *

 

Bucky is still in a daze when they make it back to T’Challa’s suite. Everyone else is speaking––congratulating him, clapping his shoulders, hugging him, praising him for his story… But Bucky cannot believe––cannot process––that he’s free. That he’s been pardoned for his crimes as the Winter Soldier. A part of him feels guilty; _Should_ he have been pardoned? But he shrugs it off, and tries to focus on the current reality: He has been. And now he is with his friends and family, and he’s free to be himself.

He’s free to heal. To start over.

He sits on the couch, and Steve plops down by his side, his grin wide. 

“You did it, Buck. You did it.”

Bucky nods, smiling back at his friend. “Yeah. It feels surreal. It’s been seventy years, Steve. Seventy years that my life was put on hold, that I was a killing machine and not a human. And it’s coming to an end. I can be myself again. I can’t believe it.”

Steve nods, putting an arm around Bucky’s shoulder. “Better believe it, pal. This is it. You’re back, and you’re safe.”

Bucky grins.

“Look at you, James. A free man. Congrats.”

Bucky looks up towards Tony, who is approaching them slowly. Pepper has her hands on his elbow, guiding him towards the other two men. Rhodey, Wanda and Bruce are just behind them. Pepper and Rhodey had arrived earlier, during Bucky’s trial, and had apparently rejoined with Tony sometime afterwards.

“Thanks, Tony.” He means it. Tony had encouraged him. He had helped him believe he was worth saving, even when he did not believe in himself. “Hello, Miss Potts. Rhodey. I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure. It’s an honour to officially meet you, under good circumstances.”

Pepper smiles. “Pepper is fine, please. It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, too. Congratulations on winning the trial. It must feel good to be free and to have that second chance. From what I heard,” she glanced at Tony, “you deserve it.”

Bucky’s eyes soften. “Thank you. That means a lot. I really hope it’s true.”

Tony scoffs, shaking his head. “None of that now, James. We’ve been over this. You deserve the chance. It wasn’t your fault. Don’t forget what happened, but don’t suffer over it. You want to become a better man, and you mean it. You never meant the shit you had to do as the Winter Soldier. You’re a good man. Believe that. Work towards it, always.”

Bucky grabs Tony’s hand as he neared the couch, and pulls him down, guiding him so he sits on his other side. Tony takes a few moments to get settled, as Pepper sits on the arm of the couch next to him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“You’re full of wise words, old man.” Bucky teases.

“It just so happens a lot of the wise lords are blind.” Tony agrees, scoffing again. “And I am growing quite old. So you better take my wisdom to heart. You,” Tony reaches out and pokes his index finger at Bucky’s chest, “are a good man, and the world now understands that. You should be happy. Don’t let the doubt cloud your joy. Celebrate. Life is good, Bucky. Life is good.”

 

* * *

 

_** [ Two Weeks Later ] ** _

 

“Life is terrible, isn’t it!” Tony screams, pushing everything off the top of his lab bench. “Life is just fucking terrible. What do you mean I can’t work in my own lab? What do you _mean_ I can’t be down here? This is my lab. My lab! Blind or not, I can work in my fucking lab! You’re not going to stop me. This is my life. If I lose my lab, I lose my life. You’re not stopping me. You’re not getting me out. Just leave!”

Bruce inhales slowly, trying to calm himself down. Last he needs is for Hulk to make an appearance when Tony is this distressed. “Tony, I don’t mean that, I just mean that you shouldn’t be here alone for now––”

“For now? For _now_?” Tony continues to yell. “Bruce. This isn’t just for now. This is my life. This is my life now! We all love to forget it and act all happy and dandy, but this is my life now. I’m a blind man. I’m fucking blind, Bruce! And it’s not going to go away any time soon. Can you all, _for once_ , stop acting like this is some cold that’s just going to pass in a few days? God. God, you don’t get it!”

“We get it, Tony, I promise. You just need more time to get used to living here. Last week you jabbed your arm with a metal rod and now your thigh is bleeding through your pants because you stabbed it with God knows what! Just calm down, please, and listen to me––”

“No. No, I’m done listening. Why are you even here? Why are you still here? You all always leave when things get good. No one needs my help anymore. The Accords are solved, Barnes is back, everyone is safe. I’m useless. So why are you still here?”

“Tony––”

“I’d rather die in my lab than stay up there feeling like a stranger living in my own body!”

Bruce snaps his mouth shut.

“If I’m not an engineer, if I can’t keep my hands busy, if I can’t work on my ideas, then I’m not _myself_. Forget about the media and the publicity. I’m glad that part of Tony Stark is now dead to people. Who wants to see a blind man throw a party, anyway? And Iron Man is dead. That’s fine, we have a thousand other heroes. But this is me, Bruce. _This_ is me. I’m an engineer. I’m an innovator. If I can’t be that, then who am I? Who the Hell am I supposed to be?”

“We can figure it out, Tony, but you can take it slow.”

“It’s never going to get better. It’s not going to change. So why wait? Huh? What’s the difference between me coming back to my lab now versus waiting another year? I’m still going to be fucking _blind_!”

Bruce opens his mouth to respond, then pauses when he heard the sound of heavy footsteps approaching from behind him. He turns around, and is a little surprised to find Bucky. What is he doing down in the lab?

“Hey. What’s going on down here? Everything alright?”

“Now is not a good time, James––”

“We’re just trying to figure out––”

“We’re not trying to figure anything out, Bruce, this is decided––”

“What do you mean, decided? Tony, I’m trying to help you out, I swear! You should––”

“Help me out by taking away everything that _defines me_?”

“Whoa! Guys, calm down!” Bucky exclaims. He places a hand on Tony’s shoulder, and feels a pang in his chest when Tony nearly jumps as he flinches. Right. Bucky had not warned him that he would be reaching out––normally he didn’t need to, but when Tony was distressed, he did not like anyone touching him. It skyrocketed his anxiety. 

“Just leave. Both of you.”

“No, Tony. We’re here. What’s wrong?”

Bruce exhales slowly, and turns his attention to Tony as well.

Tony remains silent for a few moments.

“Why are you still here?” He finally asks in a small voice. “All of you. Why are you sticking around? You don’t have to baby me because I’m blind. I don’t need a babysitter at all times. You don’t need to feel guilty if you leave. I’ll be just fine.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Tony. Come on. It’s not like that. I’m not here to babysit you. No one is. We’re here because we’re a family, Tony. You guys _are_ my new family. And we’re trying to work it out. Everyone is here because we all want to stick together. You’re part of this––albeit messed up––family.”

Tony chuckled. “Really? So that’s what this is now? A family? I mean, I don’t recall any of them wanting to act like family when Ultron was built. Or when the Accords happened. Yeah, they all had a thing for leaving when they no longer needed to use me in some way or another. So drop the family bullshit. It’s nice, really. It’s a nice thought. But we could never be a family, so _drop that bullshit_.”

“I get that that’s going to be hard, it _is_ extremely hard––and it’s not fair to expect you to be comfortable with it right away, Tony, but I swear to you that no one has bad intentions.”

“Everything is _different_! This whole image of a nice, loving family? That’s straight out bullshit. Where was this image when I fucked up? You think that if I wasn’t blind, that the team would even be on speaking terms with me right now? You think that if I didn’t become blind, they wouldn’t have continued to blame me for everything? If I wasn’t blind, the team would have continued to hate me. They would have never forgiven me. This isn’t an act of love, this is an act of pity. And I was fine with it during the Accords, we needed to get things done and fixed, but now? I don’t need that. I don’t need their pity. They all hate me, and I don’t need them sticking around just because they feel bad for blinding me. _You_ are not obliged to stay around either.”

Bucky’s eyes widen, and he feels a heaviness settle in his chest. “That’s not true, Tony. You’re right. If the team hadn’t seen how hurt you’d gotten, it might have taken them longer to understand that you weren’t fully at fault. It might have taken them longer to feel guilt and admit their wrongdoings. But no one hates you now. This isn’t pity. I promise.”

“You don’t know that.”

“It’s what I believe.”

“I don’t. I don’t believe it. You weren’t part of the team before, James. You can’t understand, so don’t defend them, or speak on their behalf. It’s true––It’s pity. Hawkeye nearly blew my head off even when I was blind. If I wasn’t, you think he would have hesitated? They’re your friends. They’re your family. So go join them, and leave me alone. All of you.”

“You can’t do this. You can’t push me away, not now. You can’t put up those barriers, Tony, not when they were down before.”

“Frankly, I believe that you, too, would have never taken the chance to know me if you had not played a role in causing my blindness yourself. You felt bad, and that’s why you spoke with me. I don’t want to live with people who would have hated me if they did not have a reason to pity me. Is that so hard to understand?”

Bucky studies Tony carefully. “You don’t mean that.”

“I do.”

“No. No, Tony. You’re telling me now that everything is fixed, we suddenly can’t be friends? Just because we _might have_ not become friends under different circumstances doesn’t erase the fact that we now are. You can’t trap yourself in the possibilities of what might have happened. This is where we are now. You got blind. My arm was blown off. It gave us a chance to speak. To understand each other. That isn’t pity, Tony. It’s a bond. It’s friendship. And it somehow happened under those circumstances. We can’t erase that.”

Tony lets out a shaky breath, tears forming in his eyes.

“I know it doesn’t seem fair. It doesn’t seem fair that your team only believed you and sided with you after you got so terribly hurt. It doesn’t seem fair that we had to go through all of this shit to become friends. But when has life ever been fair? I mean, if Bruce didn’t become a giant green monster when he got mad, you wouldn’t have become teammates. Life works out in weird ways. And this is our story, Tony. _Our_ story."

They stand in silence for a while before Bucky continues.

"Please, don’t put up more walls. We’re back in the US, and this is hard on you––it feels like you’re living the old Avengers days all over again. But you’re not. This is a new team, a new mentality, and it just happened to work out under those circumstances.”

“Everyone is back to normal. They’re friendly. It just feels so wrong.” Tony says, his voice hoarse. He leans back against the bench, wincing when he moves his leg. He presses his hand down on his thigh, biting back a groan. “All I can see is Steve’s face when he brought the shield down on me. Again, and again, and again. I can’t erase that sight. I can’t see anything _else_. I know I made new memories, I know Steve sounds very gentle and nice and kind now but… He almost killed me that day. And I can’t see anything else.”

Bruce steps closer to Tony, his eyes softening, but he doesn’t say anything. Bucky also remains quiet, giving Tony the time to collect his thoughts. 

Tony places his palm over his face, and rubs at his eyes. “I can’t help it. I just can’t accept the fact that everything is fixed, that everyone is _fine_ , but I never will be. I’ll never be fixed. And if I can’t be fixed, I can’t be _myself_.”

He breaks out into a soft sob.

“If I can’t be an engineer, if I can’t be Iron Man, if I can’t be a stupid celebrity––then who am I supposed to be? Everyone is fitting into this new life, this new family as you call it… And I’m the puzzle piece that can never fit. And I don’t want to be around everyone just to watch them get back together and feel even more left out. It’s selfish, I know, but I––I can’t handle it.”

Bucky inches closer to Tony, and reaches out with his hand. “Can I touch your shoulder? I’m going to sit next to you.” 

When Tony nods, Bucky places a hand on his shoulder and leans back against the lab bench by Tony’s side. He moves his hand from Tony’s shoulder to his thigh, placing it over Tony’s hand––which is pressing down on his injury. 

“You’re not selfish. That’s valid, Tony. And I’m sorry for not realizing it sooner. I’m sorry that we’ve all been acting as if… as if it’s past us. But for you, it’s not. And it’s not selfish. It’s just harder for you to move on when you can’t see anything past what you last saw during the Accords and the Siberia fight.”

“I’m sorry that we haven’t been more mindful.” Bruce agrees. “We care about you, Tony. We’re just worried. And maybe we’ve been coming across as negligent.”

“I don’t want to set you back. You should all go. T’Challa helped me more than I can say, you all stood by my side––especially you, James. All I’m saying is… You’re all moving on, and I can’t. I don’t want to hold you back. Just… Just let me do this at my own pace.”

“You’re not holding anyone back. And we’re letting you do it alone. That’s what we’re here for. That’s what _I’m_ here for.” Bucky whispers.

“You don’t have to do this.”

“I want to.”

Tony takes a deep breath, then nods slowly.

“I’m sorry I went off at you earlier, Bruce. I just… I don’t want to be banned from my own lab. Please. Friday will help me out. We’re working on a new system to get me acquainted to the lab again. Don’t take this from me.”

Bruce nods, then remembers that Tony cannot see him. “Alright. Just promise me that you’ll be careful, and that you’ll call for help if you need it. Bucky’s right––you don’t need to put up more barriers and walls. We’re here for you Tony. We’re here, and we’ll stay here, no matter how long the road is. And who knows––maybe we’ll find a way to ‘fix’ your situation. Not that you need to, because you are _you_. You’re an innovator. You find a way to work around whatever life throws at you. You don’t need your sight for that. But if you want it, we’ll work hard to find a way to bring it back.”

“T’Challa has a genius sister. Maybe she has a few ideas of her own.”

“He has a sister?” Tony asks.

“Shuri. She’s a teenager, but she is amazing. She builds a lot of Wakanda’s tech and weapons and medical equipment. T’Challa kept her away from us as much as he could because he didn’t want to risk her getting involved in the politics of the Accords and helping the fugitives and all that, but… Now we’re safe. Maybe we can reach out to her.”

“A teenager finding a way to fix my loss of vision?” Tony marvels. “That’s incredible. She’s really that smart, huh? A new, innovative mind that puts ours to shame. That’s astounding.”

“Alright then. We’ll see what T’Challa says.” Bruce says, a smiling forming on his lips. “But for now, I want you to know that we mean everything we said. Whatever the circumstances, Tony, we’re right here by your side. Whether you get your vision back or not…. That won’t change the fact that you’re family.”

Tony feels his eyes well up with tears, and he brushes them off quickly with the back of his hand. 

“Thank you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What did you think? Is it a satisfying ending? A bit of an open one, but if you guys would like to see Shuri and Tony figure something out, I can always make a sequel (I have many ideas for ways to bring back his vision, but I thought for the sake of this fic, the focus should be on his friendships and his feelings).
> 
> We're almost at 1000 comments!! don't forget to drop a comment to let me know what you thought of the chapter and the fic as a whole! xx Thank you for reading all of it. Onto new works!

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed the chapter, please don't forget to leave a comment or kudos c: I really really appreciate and love any comments that I get on my fics.
> 
> Also, if you want to see what happens next, don't forget to subscribe.
> 
> You can always message me on Tumblr at tchailla !!


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